


The I-Lab of Doctor Moro

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Animal Traits, Avon Whump, Brainwashing, Captivity, Happy Ending, M/M, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 22:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1280785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avon and Blake are captured by a mad scientist who enjoys turning people into animals- either mentally or surgically- for his depraved sexual pleasure.</p><p>Blake winds up pretending to be a dog, but Avon's not so fortunate, and really thinks he's a pussycat. They get on like cats and dogs, of course.</p><p>(Gan and the rest of the Liberator crew show up at the end of the fic. I felt they didn't get enough attention to justify being listed as character tags.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The I-Lab of Doctor Moro

**Author's Note:**

> I always felt the book and the movie, 'The Island of Doctor Moreau' omitted a lot of evil sexual stuff that the doctor would have been indulging in. So here it is. There's quite a lot more sex scenes than I usually write.
> 
> This was published in Fire and Ice #6 in October of 2000. I'm posting it by special request and hope you will find the story interesting enough to outweigh the flaws I couldn't polish out without entirely re-writing it.

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

"Avon!" Blake shouted a warning across the corridor as he saw the shadow of a Federation trooper. Their latest mission had gone wrong from the start. The 'undermanned laboratory specializing in exploring new environmental adaptation techniques utilizing both physical and psychological methodology', which certainly sounded like an experimental mutoid factory, looked more like a trooper training center. 

"Call for teleport!" Avon shouted back, whirling and firing with a mad abandon that temporarily cleared them a breathing space. It wasn't long enough for Blake to try crossing to Avon's position, or even for Avon to reach for the teleport bracelet he'd dropped while performing a neat shoulder-roll into a sheltered alcove between two large featureless machines.

"No!" 

"Don't be a fool! What purpose does it serve if we are both captured?"

Deserting Avon wasn't an option, even if Blake had been tempted. "It's no good, I've tried." He had been talking with Jenna when the _Liberator_ was attacked, obviously taken totally by surprise. He'd no idea how it was done. Before they were cut off, he had heard explosions and screams. "They don't answer."

Avon's face went from furious to bleak. "Then they are dead."

"Or off-station. If we can just hold out..." Blake grunted, and lost his train of thought as he dealt with another pair of troopers.

"Your optimism can be... very wearing... did you know that?" Avon replied, panting, as he held off troopers on his side of the corridor. 

"And your pessimism... Avon!" Blake roared as Avon's latest blast missed and a trooper's shot got through. Avon was slammed against the machines to end up a crumpled heap on the floor. "Avon!" Blake shouted, completely forgetting to watch behind himself. Something picked him up and flung him across the corridor to land beside his friend. Blake reached out, fumbling with numbed fingers to touch Avon to let him know that Blake hadn't abandoned him. At least they would not die alone. Blake's breath rasped loud in his ears, the ozone-stink of blaster discharge filling his lungs. He heard running steps and excited shouts. The last thing he saw was a black boot aiming at his head.

***

"Blake?" It was a whisper, but Blake winced. His back ached dully and his head throbbed sharply. He was also cold, and recognized the sensation of being strapped down naked to a metal table. He tensed against the straps uselessly, then opened his eyes to glare at his captor, a pale, slender man wearing a white lab coat. He had white-blonde hair, amber eyes and a large, sharply-hooked, nose. Surprisingly enough, the man appeared concerned. "You are Blake, aren't you?" came the whisper again. He offered Blake a drinking straw. "It's only water."

Blake knew it would be easy enough to drug him by injection and he was thirsty. He accepted the tube and drank greedily. "Who are you?" he asked, keeping his voice down. He looked around as best he could, but found no sign of Avon. He and his captor were alone in a small room which looked and smelled like a medical examining room.

"Dr. Moro calls me 'Eagle'," the man said with more than a hint of bitterness. 

"Dr. Moro?"

"The madman who's in charge here." Eagle looked around warily. "Please, he'll get suspicious if I'm not back soon. I have to know. Are you Roj Blake, the terrorist, the one with the alien ship?"

Blake's mouth turned sour. "Terrorist by default and I don't know where my ship is at the moment, but yes, I'm Roj Blake." Blake trusted his own sense of people enough to believe that Eagle was not hostile. Besides, the information was of very little value. By now, their computers must have told them his identity. "Where is Avon?"

"Your friend? He's in another room. He was stunned, too. I'm told he's uninjured." Eagle hurried on to say, " I can help you, if you promise to help me."

"I can do very little for anyone at the moment," Blake said wryly, glancing at his straps.

"I've heard about you. You've escaped the Federation before. If...When you escape this place, take me with you."

"Perhaps." Blake studied Eagle. The man seemed sincere. "Get me and Avon out of here. Once we're off the base, we can hide until my ship returns." The lab was on a particularly inhospitable world, but Blake would far rather face poisonous desert beasts and starvation than remain in the Federation's hands.

Eagle shook his head. "I can't. There are too many guards. We wouldn't get ten meters."

"You underestimate us. So did the Federation."

"I wouldn't dare."

"I can't say as I think much of your bargain. If you won't help us escape, what use are you to me?"

"You don't know what this place is like," Eagle said, plucking and patting nervously at Blake's shoulder. "Without my help, you'll be dead or ... well, unable to ever leave. Dr. Moro's completely mad. He calls this place his 'I-Lab', 'I' for Intra-Species'. He thinks he can turn people into animals."

"That's insane."

"That's what I've been telling you. He amputates limbs, and injects animal cells, transplants..." Eagle gulped, as if holding back nausea. "The things I've seen... been forced to do... I'm a bondslave," he admitted. "Dr. Moro bought me because I reminded him of an animal. He will use you, but he," Eagle said, shuddering, "likes me, so I can convince him to use you for one of the less drastic experiments. That's the only way you'll stay in any condition to escape."

"He can't have authority to experiment on us. He'll have orders to turn us over to the military." For once, Blake was hoping Servalan would arrive soon. "The bounty is higher if we're alive, and able to talk."

"Don't you understand? Dr. Moro doesn't care about money. The Federation funds him and gives him a free hand with this base. He's told the troopers you are minor rebels, not worth transporting to Earth for trial. He promised to punish you for killing their friends, make you suffer instead of giving you a quick execution. When he added a bonus to their pay they were quite happy to accept. No one will ever know you were here. Please, believe me, for both our sakes."

"All. All our sakes. There's no deal unless you help Avon, too." Eagle had to be telling the truth. His story was too unbelievable to be a lie.  
"Yes, yes, the same as you." There was a shrill 'beep', and Eagle looked up, then back at Blake. "Dr. Moro is coming. Listen. I've already talked him into using you in the mental regression experiment. I'll switch the drug for a harmless relaxant, but you'll have to convince him it worked, or he'll try something different."

"Convince him?"

"Pretend to be an animal." Eagle was getting more nervous by the second. "Some animal whose behavior you know well. Please!" Eagle scurried over to another table, and began fussing with injectors.

Blake was looking at Eagle when he heard the hiss of a door opening off to his left, just beyond the limits of his vision. Eagle turned, and said, "Doctor."

"Ah, so there you are, my little Eagle. Playing with our new specimen? You should learn not to be so impetuous." A tall, stoop-shouldered man also wearing a white laboratory coat came around the edge of Blake's table. He was dark-haired with white scattered thickly about his temples and had a smooth, unlined face that somehow looked very old. "Blake," he said, rolling the name slowly, as if tasting it. "You don't look as cunning as I would expect from your reputation." He touched a control at the head of the table, and it tilted so that Blake was half-reclining, kept from falling forward by the straps.

Blake narrowed his gaze. "Dr. Moro. You don't look quite as I'd expected from your reputation."

"My Eagle's been telling you stories," Dr. Moro replied. He smiled and there was something in the bright shine of his washed-out blue eyes that convinced Blake the stories were true. "He probably told you I'm mad." Moro shook his head. "All great scientists are misunderstood." He ran his gaze over the length of Blake's body and smiled again. "You are a fine specimen. Much better than the bland and brainless sheep the Federation provides me. I could do something quite... remarkable with you." His tongue flicked out to lick across his pale lips, putting Blake in mind of a reptile, basking after it fed.

"Dr. Moro?" Eagle came up close and placed his hand tentatively on the scientist's sleeve.

"What is it?" Moro was still staring at Blake and the avid hunger in his eyes made Blake ill.

"The mental regression experiment? It's ready to proceed."

Moro's mouth turned sulky. "I might have changed my mind. I'm tempted to see what I could make of him. And his companion. Such eyes- he'd make a lovely raven, don't you think? And it would even rhyme."

"But wouldn't it be even more interesting to see what they really are, inside? You know, this is the first time you've had two specimens who know each other. How would they interact, afterward?" Eagle's voice was pure seduction. "Think of it."

Moro's smooth face went blank for an instant, then the filthy smile was back. He ran his hand over Eagle's arm. "Yes, you are right, my Eaglet. Besides, I can always try transplants and gene therapy later." He stepped back, away from Blake's table. "Proceed."

"Yes, Doctor Moro," Eagle said. He held up an injector. "This won't hurt," he told Blake.

Blake refused to react as the needle slid into his arm. He asked Doctor Moro, "What can you hope to gain from this?"

"Gain?" Moro blinked, looking surprised. "I am a scientist, Blake. I seek knowledge. At the moment, I intend to explore the primitive paths of your psyche. Pride makes us separate humanity from the beasts, but really, deep down, we are all animals. In your case, the veneer of civilization is very thin. You are a predatory beast, my dear, I am quite sure of it." Moro smiled. "You'd like to attack me right now, wouldn't you?"

"Why not unstrap me and see what happens? That might make an interesting experiment." Blake was fighting to stay alert, but whatever Eagle had given him was making his head spin and his tongue thicken. 

Moro shook his head. "No, I don't think so." He moved toward a large, free-standing console, and began flipping switches. The bright lights dimmed except for one spot which shone directly in Blake's eyes. "It would be all too predictable. You are tired, aren't you, Blake? Why don't you rest now? There really is nothing for you to worry about." Moro's voice had become soft and soothing, with an odd undertone. Blake remembered the sub-aural tones the Federation had used to program him. This was very similar. His head lolled to one side, yet he remained aware. As long as he knew what was happening he could fight it. Moro's silky voice continued. He was cajoling Blake to cast off his human skin and free the animal that lay within.

Blake had far too much experience with the inner workings of his own mind, and was not at all tempted to dive into that dark and frightening jungle again. He moaned, letting Moro think the drug was weakening his resistance, but his mind was clear. His body was limp, but he could still reason. Eagle was keeping his side of the bargain and Blake ought to follow his advice. Behave like an animal. As an Earth-dome raised Alpha, Blake had few dealings with animals, but when he'd visited his uncle on the planet Ex-Bar there had been animals; mostly wild ones whose habits he'd learned only sufficiently to hunt them, but there was one creature he'd had ample time to study. His cousin had captured a canid whelp and hand-raised it. It was a snarling, sullen thing with anyone other than Inga, but Blake had been determined to befriend it and had spent a great deal of time observing its behavior. He'd felt a kinship with the canid. He could play that role. He'd damn well better be convincing, though. He didn't like the alternatives.

Moro's voice droned on interminably, urging Blake to 'seek his animal nature' , the single bright light pulsed in time with Blake's heartbeat, and Eagle continued to administer injections that made Blake dizzy. He shut his eyes.

***

"And how are you feeling now, Blake?"

Blake snapped his eyes open, lunging in the direction of the voice even before he regained sufficient awareness to remember the role he had to play. Dr. Moro was leaning over him, cold, bony hands touching Blake's chest. The insolence and intimacy of the gesture made it easy for Blake to react as Inga's half-trained canid had, the first time he'd tried to approach it. Blake growled, deep in his throat, and snapped at Moro's hands, which retreated with gratifying speed. Blake continued to emit deep, throaty warning sounds until Moro moved entirely away from the table. He twisted against the straps, trying to reach them with his teeth until he was out of breath from the futile struggle.

Moro glanced at Eagle. "Definitely predatory," he said, sounding quite pleased with himself. "And yet..." He looked at Blake again, meeting Blake's furious gaze with his own deceptively mild scrutiny. "Not quite the response of a truly wild animal. They generally attack humans from fear- and you aren't afraid of me, are you, pet?" Moro snapped his fingers. "That's it- pet. Some sort of domesticated animal. But not one of those damned sheep." He rubbed his hands together, making a dry insectoid rattle. "Good. Good. Eagle, the collar."

Eagle held up a thick length of pale flesh-colored synthetic leather- at least Blake hoped it was synthetic. Blake snarled and twisted, but Eagle buckled the thing on him with the deftness of long practice and fused the fastener with a laser-welder. The symbolism of the collar made Blake choke, but he doubted that was its only purpose. The leather only slightly cushioned the hard interior of the collar. Eagle reached forward, holding a long strap in his hand. Dr. Moro said, "No. Give it to me." He took the strap and clipped it to Blake's collar. He ran his hand over Blake's head, despite Blake's best efforts to avoid him.

_You are one sick bastard,_ Blake thought. His whole being screeched outrage at this mistreatment. At least when the Federation tortured a man, they acknowledged that he was a man. It was very hard not to tell Moro exactly what he thought of him, but he caught a glimpse of Eagle's pale and frightened face and restrained himself. If Blake lost his temper and gave the game away, what chance would Avon have? So, since he couldn't talk, he snarled, and managed a sideways move that allowed him to graze Moro's fingers with his teeth.

Moro pulled his hand back sharply. "No! That was bad, Blake. You'll have to learn who is master here." His fingers moved on the end of the leash and Blake's world exploded. Everything was fire, he could see nothing for the white fire, hear nothing for the roar of the flames, feel nothing except his flesh and bones being consumed, crisping to ash. Dimly, he knew he must be thrashing in his agony, screaming his lungs out, but he could not even feel his muscles spasm. After a time he had no way of judging, he found himself curled on his side, whimpering. The restraints had been removed, and the room was normally lit. Hands were patting at him, urging him to move. He didn't want to. He didn't want to do anything except stay curled up tight, sobbing around the horrible shock of the pain he couldn't even clearly remember.

"Blake. Blake. Get up Blake."

It was Eagle. Dimly Blake recognized the voice. He still didn't want to move. Other hands joined the one set, pulling him to a sitting position. There was a tug at his neck- the collar! and his hands flew up to encounter the leather and claw at it. He was allowed a few seconds' struggle, and then the pain hit again. After it ended, vision slowly returned, and Blake heard himself making harsh noises, animal-enough in their misery to satisfy even Dr. Moro. He looked around, frantic to locate his tormentor, but Moro was no longer in the room. Instead Eagle had been joined by three other men dressed in white. One was short and stocky with a bold white streak running through his dark hair. The second was thin and wiry-looking, with dark, beady eyes, while the third had sharp features, coppery-red hair and green eyes. "Come." Eagle said, tugging on Blake's leash. Blake grabbed at the leash, but did not fight it. "Come," Eagle repeated, tugging slightly harder. Blake was finding it difficult to breathe and he leaned forward instinctively to ease the pressure. "Yes," Eagle said, still talking soothingly as if he was addressing a dumb animal.

Blake had had just about enough. He pushed off of the table, and went for Eagle. He hadn't decided whether he was attacking or just asserting himself. In either event, the collar was triggered again. He hit his shoulder against the table on the way down and found himself surrounded by legs when he returned to awareness again, sore and aching all over. He simply lay, breathing heavily, until Eagle repeated, "Come," and gave another tug to the leash. Blake got to his feet slowly. He didn't know what sort of device the collar was, but that degree of neurological assault couldn't be good for his system. In time it could cause permanent impairment.

"Why don't you just let us drag the idiot off?" the white-streaked one said. "He's too dumb to learn." He slapped a short leather whip against his palm. It was also made of the same pale leather, Blake noted.

"No, I don't think so, Badger. Dr. Moro says he's become a domesticated animal. I'm testing his intelligence. By now, he ought to have learned not to fight the leash," Eagle said, calmly. He was watching Blake alertly, with no sign that he gave a damn for Blake's pain. 

Blake hung his head, and concentrated on evening his breath. Another tug came on the leash and this time, Blake stumbled after it. He put his hands up to it, but dropped them quickly when he saw Eagle's fingers tighten.

"See," Eagle said. "He'll come quietly now."

Badger grunted and let his whip-holding hand relax. "He'd better. Dr. Moro wouldn't like it if we have to mark up Blake's hide. He may want it later."

"Can we just get on with it? Ferret and I are overdue for our meal-break," said the red-haired man. He shoved at Blake, nearly making him lose his balance.

The thin man with the close-set eyes had to be Ferret. Ferret shrugged. "No need to take it out on this poor slob, Fox." 

Badger sneered. "You want to pity the specimens? Save it for yourself, if we don't do the job."

"He'll obey now, won't you, Blake?" Eagle said, backing toward the door while pulling on the leash.

Blake felt sick, and his legs trembled, but he forced himself to walk. He was beyond humiliation. He held onto the memory of Inga's pet.The canid loved only Inga, but he had given Blake and Ushton a grudging obedience. He had seen in those yellow eyes that Goldie was being expedient. It didn't mean his spirit was broken, only that he was too clever to fight when he couldn't possibly win. Blake could do that. He would damn well have to do it, unless he wanted his hide made into a belt for Dr. Moro, which would also put Avon's skin at risk. He was worried about his friend, even though Avon would have curtly refused the designation. Avon had even more pride than Blake. Could he play the role of an animal? Even for his life? Blake could visualize Avon, all arrogance and Alpha confidence, daring Dr. Moro to do his worst. No, Avon could be sensible. He'd see that Eagle's plan made sense. He would go along with it. He would survive. Avon was very good at that.

The journey was probably not a long one, although it seemed to take hours. Blake kept phasing in and out, as the drugs seemed to wear off unevenly. At intervals he was hot, then he was cold, and he was always dizzy and had difficulty focussing. He tried to memorize the way, but was hopelessly lost after two- or was it three- turns? He felt another tug on the leash, this time directing him to stop, and he obeyed. He stood, swaying slightly, as he heard metallic noises. He lifted his head, and managed to make out an enclosure formed out of translucent bars. There was a solid metal door set in the bars, and Fox was opening it. 

Blake blinked, trying to see clearly. There was a dark shadow at the far end of the enclosure. He barely noticed as his leash was unclipped, and several pairs of hands pushed him forward, through the door and into the cell. He stumbled and fell to his knees, then looked back over his shoulder at the sound of the metal door being relocked. He could see Eagle and the others walking off quickly. He was alone. He shuddered all over and put his hands up to the collar. He couldn't even get a finger under it and as for the locking mechanism- well, that was a fused lump. Not even Vila could do anything with it. Blake's breath caught in his throat. He'd tried not to think about the others. _Liberator_ was long overdue, if she'd just been chased off-station. There was a soft noise, not too far away. Blake looked up, and grinned. Avon! Eagle had managed to get them both in the same cell. That was something anyway.

He was so glad to see the other man that he discounted Avon's glare, and went to him, intending at least to put a hand on Avon's shoulder- or more likely, grab the smaller man in a bearhug. If he hadn't been disoriented he would have realized that a naked, drugged, and humiliated Avon wouldn't be best pleased by Blake's sentiment. But never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined the response he got. Blake was on Avon before the other man could rise from his huddled heap. Avon normally had better reflexes, but then, this hadn't been a good day for either of them. He knelt and put his arms around Avon, intending to call his name, but Avon writhed within his grasp, hissed and spat, clawed at Blake's face and kicked him quite heavily in the belly. Gasping, totally astonished, Blake yelped and let Avon go. He knelt on the hard, cold floor, one hand pressed against his face, while Avon scrambled away, on all fours at first, into the corner of the cell farthest from Blake. 

Once in the corner, Avon turned, shoulders up and fingers outspread in threat. He hissed again and crouched, waiting for Blake's response.

Blake's face stung. He was bleeding. The little... he actually drew blood! Not thinking, Blake rose to his feet, mouth open to protest. He was going to find out what...Avon's head turned and Blake followed the glittering eyes. Monitors! Blake shut his mouth, and sat back down on the floor. How could he have imagined they wouldn't be watched? Dr. Moro was conducting an experiment, wouldn't he be watching? If not for Avon's quick thinking, Blake would have given the show away. Blake sighed and rubbed gingerly at his wounded cheek. Avon needn't have been quite so authentic! So they couldn't even speak to each other. That would make it rather difficult to plan an escape attempt. He sighed again and settled as comfortably as possible on the floor, carefully not looking at Avon. It had to be even harder on Avon to play this game, although he probably derived some satisfaction from attacking Blake, whom he no doubt blamed for their current predicament. Avoiding the black glare coming from Avon's side of the cell, Blake looked around. There were no sanitary facilities, but there was a water-filled steel bowl, immovably fixed to a pipe that provided a constant fluid level. There was also a drain set in the floor near the back wall of the enclosure. Outside the cell, there was a heavy hose fastened to the outer wall. Blake didn't care for the implications. It wasn't a cell. It was a cage. This was going to be even more awkward than he'd imagined. Avon would never forgive him for this. 

There was a noise and Blake looked through the bars at the outer chamber. It was Badger, carrying a bucket. He looked at Blake and grinned. "Sharp little cuss, isn't he?" He chuckled. "Not so smart as you. He wouldn't be walked. Got marked up a bit. Shame about that."

Blake's lip curled in a silent snarl, but he didn't look at Avon, refusing to reveal that he understood Badger's words. Thinking back, there had been marks on Avon's body. Thin lines as if from a whip, and broad bruises as if from hands and feet. No wonder Avon had been slow to rise. Blake edged toward the door. If Badger came in alone... Badger suddenly smashed the whip along the bars, creating a loud clanging noise. Blake lunged for Badger, reaching through the bars and howling with anger, only to have his knuckles rapped. 

Blake retreated, but kept snarling. Behind him he heard Avon hiss. 

Badger said, "Oh, you two are going to get along just great." He pressed a control set by the side of the door and two flat, transparent trays resting on the white floor of the cage slid out toward Badger. He tilted his bucket and a thick, lumpy stream of brown glop flowed into both trays, slopping over onto the floor. He pressed the control again and the trays slid back into the cage. "Enjoy your din-din, boys," Badger said as he turned and left.

Blake eyed the slop. If Moro wanted honest reactions the food couldn't be drugged even if it did look disgusting. He went to the nearest tray and dipped a finger in. He tasted it and shrugged mentally. Bland, greasy, cold mush. People Chow. Well, he'd eaten worse and his stomach clenched, telling him it had been far too long between meals. He began eating. He didn't react as he noticed Avon's stealthy approach. Avon kept looking at him, then away, then at the food, then away. Avon paused, then flattened himself down at the second tray only just out of Blake's arm reach. Blake kept watch out of the corner of his eye and was amused by Avon's reaction. He sniffed the food, spat, and turned his back to the tray. Blake finished his meal and went to the bowl for a long drink of water, splashing his hands clean and dunking his head under to clear the cobwebs out of his mind. He took his time about it.

Avon still hadn't touched the food. Instead he was licking the side of his hand and rubbing it over his bruised face. Something clicked and Blake recognized the animal Avon was portraying. Somewhere, at sometime, Avon must have had a pet cat. Blake couldn't help grinning. It wasn't much of a stretch of personality. And he and Blake did fight like dogs and cats. Blake snorted in amusement, gaining a startled, affronted look from Avon. 

He looked at Avon's tray. If Avon wasn't going to eat it Blake might as well. His serving had been none too large even before Badger spilt a good bit outside the cage. He went over to the tray and put a hand down to scoop some up. Before he could get it to his mouth Avon was on his back, spitting and clawing at him again. _Damn it, there's no need for this!_ He reached back, grabbed an arm and pulled. Avon squalled and writhed, falling off Blake to land heavily on the floor. Blake was severely tempted to swat Avon around the cage a time or two. He didn't have to be this hostile to fool Moro. Which meant that he was probably using it as an excuse to vent his frustrations on Blake. When Avon got like that the only thing to do was back off and give him time to cool down. Blake moved away to what he was beginning to consider 'his' corner. Avon retreated to the farthest side of the cage and sat there, staring at Blake for the longest time.

He even looks like an angry cat, Blake thought, with his hair all ruffled, and his eyes all wild, black pupil. Blake sighed, gnawed at a knuckle and scratched his ribs, wondering if he looked like a dog to Avon. For a very long time nothing happened. This was a relief in one way, as Blake had no desire to experience any experiments Moro could devise. On the other hand, it was very wearing, sitting in a bare cage accompanied by a man who snarled every time Blake shifted. The lights went dim and Blake gladly accepted the hint. He lay down, circling as he tried to convince his body that the floor wasn't as hard and cold as he thought it was. He needed to rest. There would be a chance to escape eventually and he needed to be fit to seize the opportunity. He was dozing lightly when a soft sound caught his attention. He opened his eyes without moving and glanced between his curled arms. Avon was at the food. Apparently even finicky eaters get hungry. He smiled and fell asleep.

It was a light sleep with a part of his mind on alert, so he wasn't surprised to find himself waking up to a sub-conscious alarm. It was still dark, but it was no longer absolutely quiet. There was a warm shape fitted into the hollow of his body, emitting a soft, regular burr of sound. Avon must have been cold too. Blake carefully ran his hand over Avon's back, urging him to move closer. Avon obliged without shifting the hand that covered his nose and muted the snore into a muffled, almost soothing sound. Blake tucked his head down against the softness of Avon's hair and fell back to sleep. 

His second awakening was different. "Blake? Blake?" His name came so softly that it barely intruded on Blake's dreaming mind. He awoke gradually. It was Eagle, calling him. Eagle was crouched outside the cage, holding a small light on his face. "It's me. Don't move," he warned as Blake shifted, preparing to rise. His bruises had set and stiffened which made him slow enough that Eagle's warning came in time. Eagle's harsh whisper continued, "I've set the monitor on a five-minute loop, so we can talk, but you have to be in the same position when it resumes, or Dr. Moro will suspect me when he reviews them tomorrow."

"All right." Blake grasped Avon's shoulder, preparing to shake the other man awake. It was a pity as Avon must have been totally exhausted to sleep through Eagle's arrival.

"Don't!" Eagle's whisper was desperate and Blake froze.

"Why not?"

"I couldn't get to him in time. He's been regressed."

"What!" Blake's voice rose and Avon shifted against him, eyelids flickering. Blake rubbed Avon's back silently until Avon gave a soft sigh and relaxed against him again. "You mean he's not faking it?"

"I don't see how. He fought the collar until I was afraid he'd break his neck. Badger whipped him bloody and he still wouldn't stop fighting. He bit a chunk out of Ferret's leg before we knocked him out and dragged him here. Does that sound like faking it?"

No, it didn't. Avon usually knew when resistance was futile. He wouldn't have invited a senseless beating, risking injury to the point where escape became impossible. "How long do the effects last?"

"Moro says the treatment is permanent, but none of them have lived more than three days, so I don't know for certain."

Blake stared at Eagle. To die as an unreasoning animal? No, not Avon, not the arrogant, dry-witted, epitome of Alpha sophistication. It wasn't conceivable. "It's lethal?" he said, his hoarse whisper holding horror.  
"No, but Moro is. The previous specimens bored him, and he had them killed. But he's fascinated by you two." Eagle glanced at his chronometer. "I have to go. I'll help you all I can." He rose to his feet and switched off his light.

Blake found it very difficult to return to sleep. In addition to his other worries, there was a new, more immediate peril to consider. Avon had never hidden his antagonism for Blake and now there was nothing preventing him from ripping Blake's throat out with his teeth. Except that he hadn't, but had instead come to Blake for warmth. For comfort. For protection? Blake closed his arms gently around Avon.

***

The light had come up and Blake was muzzily aware of the fact. He was more aware of Avon who had turned on his side so that his rump was pressed against Blake's morning erection. It was distracting, to say the least.

"Get up!" Badger shouted, banging something against the bars as he yelled.

Blake yelped as his sleeping partner awoke in a panic and nipped him on the tender skin of his forearm. It was only a warning and didn't break the skin, but Blake was quick to open his arms, releasing Avon who fled to the far side of the cage before turning to snarl at Badger.

Blake got to his feet more deliberately, staring levelly at Badger. The rude awakening had wilted him, sparing him one embarrassment.

Badger grinned and brandished the metal nozzle of the hose he held. "Bath-time," he said, smirking. He twisted the nozzle and a powerful jet of water erupted. He aimed it at Blake, who dodged unsuccessfully. Blake gasped at the force and the chilling cold. Badger played the water up and down until Blake was soaked and shivering from head to foot, then he turned it on Avon.

Avon screamed as the water hit and Blake lunged for the bars, enraged. He reached through, pawing at the hose. 

"Uh, uh," Badger said, deftly twitching the hose out of Blake's reach. "You had your turn." Unable to stop him, Blake turned to look at Avon.

Avon slipped on the slick floor, fell and tried to get up again, but Badger was having fun directing the water at Avon's ankles, knocking him down every time he managed to regain his footing. Blake could hear Avon coughing and choking as the water deflected from the floor into his face. He tried to get between Avon and the water, but Badger hosed him to one side, then returned to his play. Avon was weakening, visibly.

Blake rushed Badger again, but was ignored this time. He looked back. Avon was down on all fours, head lowered and eyes squinted shut. The water was running pink now as it tore open yesterday's scabs. Badger played the water on Avon's stomach briefly, forcing him to urinate, adding a brief tinge of yellow. Blake sympathized. The cold water made him want... ah. There it was. Blake stepped up to the bars and took hold of his penis. Badger was busy and didn't notice. Blake aimed, shut his eyes and let fly. It felt wonderful, pissing all over Badger's immaculately white laboratory uniform.

"Son of a bitch!" Badger yelled and jumped back, dropping the hose which writhed like a live snake, twirling and sending streamers of water indiscriminately all over the cell, the corridor outside, Blake, Avon, Badger, and the ceiling. Blake went to Avon, wrapping himself around the shivering, huddled figure. Avon was blue-lipped with cold and his teeth chattered.

The water abruptly shut off, allowing Avon's gasps, Badger's curses, and the gurgle of water rushing down the drain to be heard. Above all the other sounds came Dr. Moro's voice. "What is the meaning of this?" He was standing at the corridor entrance, Eagle a respectful pace behind. Moro's expression was unreadable.

"Doctor," Badger muttered, tugging his stained coverall away from his body. "The specimens were uncooperative. I had to... to discipline them."

"I see." Moro looked at Badger. "You will be reassigned. Perhaps reclassified."

Badger's face went white. "Please, sir. I..."

"I don't want to hear it. Go!"

Badger slunk out of the corridor, too demoralized even to meet Blake's glare.

Moro stepped up to the bars. "Blake!" he said sharply.

Blake glanced up, then returned his attention to Avon.

"You know your name. Good, good." Moro gestured to Eagle, who had followed him. "Make a note, Eagle. Avon!" 

Avon flinched and burrowed his head against Blake's shoulder. The cell was already almost dry, but it was still cold, and he was still shaking violently. Blake had envied him his slender physique, but now it was proving a disadvantage. 

Moro's eyebrows raised. "Excellent. The other as well." He walked around the long side of the cage, rounding the corner towards his captives. Blake snarled and pulled Avon closer to him. "Hmm. Definitely some memory traces remain. The natural species antipathy is ameliorated by that factor. Note that, Eagle." He bent down and studied them, then shook his head. "I fear that our Badger has been overzealous. Take Avon to the infirmary."

Blake tensed as Eagle entered the cage, leash in one hand, leaving the door slightly ajar. Now was his chance, maybe his only chance. He dropped Avon and jumped up, ramming Eagle in the stomach with his head. Eagle collapsed, and Blake leaped over his body, slamming into the metal door before Moro could close it.

Moro shouted, "No, Blake, down!"

Blake said, "Not this time, Moro," and while the doctor was staring at him in disbelief, Blake landed a hard, satisfying punch on the point of Moro's chin. The doctor fell like a stone. Blake returned to Avon. "Come on, man, snap out of it," he ordered, shaking Avon's shoulders. Avon batted at him weakly and spat, but said nothing.

"He can't," Eagle said. He was sitting up and rubbing his belly. He coughed, then went on, "I told you. Is Doctor Moro dead?"

"A pity, but no," Blake replied. He gave up on Avon for the moment and dragged Moro's body into the cage. He began stripping Moro of his clothes.

"What are you doing?" Eagle asked. He still hadn't gotten to his feet.

"Escaping. Are you coming with us?" 

Eagle shrank back, shaking his head. "No. Not out there. Not in the wilderness."

"I prefer it to a Federation cage. Particularly one run by a madman." Blake continued ripping the clothes off Moro. "But if you'd rather throw yourself on Moro's mercy, that's your business. He will see the vid, you know, unless you can alter it? Or is that beyond you?"

Eagle cringed, but he shook his head again. "He'll punish me, but I don't think he'll kill me. It's certain death out there."

"We'll see." Blake started putting on Moro's clothes. The shirt had been far too small, so Blake used it to towel as much of the water from his curls as he could quickly, then tossed the garment aside. The lab coverall and trousers were tight, but at least the length was right. Fortunately, Moro's feet were nearly the same size as Blake's, so the shoes were merely incredibly uncomfortable. "If you're not coming, then strip."  
"What!"

"Avon will need your clothes." He knelt beside Avon, picked up Moro's shirt and gave Avon a rough rub-down, trying to warm the icy skin by friction.

Eagle looked at Avon who was stirring, but still looked ready to collapse. "You can't! Even if he were in his right mind, he's too weak. Leave him here."

"No. Your clothes. Now." Blake stared Eagle down. "Or do I have to take them off your body?"

Unhappily, Eagle stripped. He handed the clothes to Blake, who maneuvered them onto Avon. Avon kicked a bit, but didn't really fight. Blake hoped that was because some small part of Avon understood, but he feared it was simply that Avon hadn't the strength to protest. He took a moment to examine the fused join on Avon's collar. "How do you get these things off?"

"We don't. Maybe a laser cutter would work, but I wouldn't recommend it. If you short the wrong circuit, it'd probably kill you."

"You are an incurable optimist," Blake replied. He got Avon to his feet, steadied him and then turned to Eagle. "I'd ask you for the nearest exit, but somehow, I don't quite trust you. Come on, Avon." Blake backed out of the cage, supporting Avon with one hand. He shut the door on Eagle and Moro, checking that the lock had engaged. "We've outstayed our welcome."

 

"Shh. Stay here," Blake told Avon, pressing down on Avon's shoulder as he urged him back into the supply closet he'd found. So far no alarms had rung while Blake had managed to acquire some tools and supplies, a pack to carry them in, and a stun-weapon taken from a less than alert lab-coated technician. He'd also found their teleport bracelets- totally disassembled. He would have liked to have used the communications center to call _Liberator_ , but he couldn't find it and felt that time was running out. Their luck couldn't hold forever. Avon was unsteady on his feet, and he looked ready to bolt. "It's all right, Avon," he said in his most soothing voice, and stroked Avon's shoulders. It felt wrong to be treating Avon this way, but he was responding to it- so far. Avon backed into the darkest corner of the closet, his eyes shining at Blake out of the dimness. "That's right. I'll be right back. Stay," he repeated firmly.

Blake had found a computer in an empty lab and was trying to coerce some information out of it. At least a map of the facility. He cursed under his breath as the screen went blank again. There weren't any security codes on such basic information, but the hierarchy was set up askew, as if by a madman... yes, by Doctor Moro, which made it understandable that when he requested maps, it showed him cerebral charts. A shadow fell across the monitor and Blake whirled, gun drawn. Avon ducked, hissing, and Blake jerked the gun around, barely avoiding firing it . "I told you..." Blake snapped, angered by the near-miss, "stay!" He touched Avon's shoulder, but Avon shrank under his hand and slipped past. "Avon!" Blake grabbed at Avon, who ducked again just avoiding capture. Avon rolled under the desk, curled his legs up and stared up into Blake's face, unblinking. "All right. Stay there, then!" Blake muttered and he moved back to the computer, trapping Avon under the desk with his legs. After a moment he felt Avon trying to squirm out, but he kept his legs together until Avon pushed up Blake's pants leg, and licked him on the calf. That startled Blake into moving aside just enough for Avon to escape. Once he was out Avon spotted the computer and was fascinated. Blake had a moment of hope until Avon tried to catch the moving lights on the monitor. Blake pushed Avon aside and tried to access the map, under 'base', which gave him a chart of acids and bases. What else, Blake thought while trying to keep Avon away from the keyboard. Of course! Blake punched in 'I-Lab' with one hand, while rubbing Avon's back with the other to keep him distracted. The map came up and Blake scanned it, quickly locating the room they were in as a point of reference. Communications was half the length of the base away, located in a section designated as 'secure'. He'd seen nothing but lab workers since their escape, and had to assume the military personnel were concentrated in the 'secure' area. He'd never get near a communicator, particularly not with Avon in his present condition. Escape and worry about the _Liberator_ later. Fortunately, they were very near an exit. He breathed a sigh of relief and headed out the door. Maybe Avon would follow him?

Or maybe he wouldn't. Blake was tempted to put a leash on the man himself by the time he'd gotten Avon out of the computer lab. He'd had to shut down the computer before Avon would leave it and even then, Avon was sulky. He peered around the last corner, hand held over Avon's mouth. "Ouch!" he muttered as Avon nipped, but kept his hand there until he was sure the way was clear. The door wasn't locked and no alarms went off, which was peculiar for a Federation installation that had been swarming with troopers when they arrived, but Blake didn't stop to wonder at his luck. He went out crouched, dragging Avon by the scruff despite the spitting and squirming and dove for the nearest straggling clump of brush. He lay there, half-covering Avon and waited for a few seconds, staring at the blank silvery-metallic wall of the base. Nothing happened except that the white-hot sun beat down on the back of his neck. The air was so dry he could feel the moisture being sucked out of his hair as he waited. A small lizard skittered over a rock and ate an even smaller insect. It paused to lick its left eye, then skittered out of sight.

"This feels wrong," he said softly. _A trap? But why, when we were already captured?_ He got up, took a glance at the sun and arbitrarily decided on a direction. Avon arbitrarily decided on another direction, after the lizard. Blake had no choice but to follow.

An hour later, going by Eagle's chronometer which Blake had appropriated, Avon had gotten too tired to dart off and was following Blake in a reasonably straight-line course toward a faint bluing on the horizon which might indicate a mountain, which might possess streams or at least moisture-hoarding vegetation that they could extract water from, instead of the brittle, knee-high, nearly leafless brush that dotted the nearby landscape. Their first priority was to locate water and shelter from the sun. Blake's pack held concentrated rations, but he'd found nothing suitable to carry water. 

The day stretched on, the sun slowly sinking, but the blue haze stubbornly remained just as far away. Blake had stopped looking up for it, concentrating on his footing and his companion."Come on, Avon. Only a little way now," Blake urged. He was having difficulty talking, but he persisted because Avon stopped when he went silent. Avon was staggering, but stayed on his feet. He was covered in pale tan dust, his eyes were reddened, every inch of exposed skin was burnt bright red, and his breath came in painful-sounding gasps. Blake tried to ease his collar but even the lightest touch seemed to hurt Avon, so he gave up the attempt. Blake wasn't in much better shape, but he hadn't started this trek directly after a savage beating. "Almost there, Avon. You can do it," Blake whispered hoarsely.

Blake stopped, sensing that something had changed. Avon was making an odd sound, a high-pitched repeated inhuman cry. Gods, not the death rattle. Blake turned, and was surprised to see Avon more alert than he'd been in hours, staring upward into the garish orange clouds of sunset, and saying 'ik-ik-ik-ikikik'. If that was meant to be communication, Blake didn't understand it. He followed Avon's line of sight and sighed. It was only a small flock of flying creatures. He shifted his pack on his shoulder and turned to trudge on, then stopped. Birds? Going to roost at night? _And where they roost, there might be water!_ He turned back and traced the birds' course. If he lined up those three clumps of brush, that gave him a line to follow. He checked the horizon again. The blue was much, much nearer. Close enough that one patch of it had a definite shape and that patch was directly on the birds' path. "We really are almost there, Avon! Come on!"

 

The sand abruptly gave way to steeply angled rock formations. Blake had lost the birds' trail, but the meandering shadow between two close-standing cliffs beckoned him. It would be cooler and might lead to something. Avon was barely conscious, but kept moving so long as Blake held his arm. They had to find water soon or they were dead. Blake studied everything without knowing what he was looking for. He really should have asked Cally to give him wilderness survival training. He would insist on it as soon as he and Avon got back to _Liberator_. At the time, that seemed a perfectly normal mental note to make.

A large, legless reptile of particularly repulsive aspect slid into a black space in the rock and disappeared before him. Blake followed, dragging Avon. Several times he thought they were trapped, but the space never narrowed quite that far. He emerged, panting, knees and hands torn and bleeding, into a dimly-lit, blessedly cool, cave-like opening with the rich, heady scent of water all around. The light came down from one spot above through a narrow split in the rock.The water was only a trickle when it emerged from the rocks a few feet above the sandy ground, but it gathered into a deep pool. Blake hauled himself to the pool, lay flat on his belly and drank until the ache in his throat had eased. He was still thirsty, but pushed himself away, taking a double handful of water for Avon. He poured it over Avon's lips and watched until the convulsive swallow told him some of it had gone down, then he went back and drank some more before bringing another handful to Avon. About the third trip, Avon's eyes opened and Blake pulled him to the water to let him drink for himself. The dim light faded even more and Blake considered opening the pack and getting out some food before making plans for contacting _Liberator_. Then again, he thought, maybe that would wait.

***

The birds were singing, or at least making a great deal of not-unpleasant noise, at first light. Blake woke, lying flat on his back in a sandy patch directly beneath the overhead opening in the rock. Avon was curled up at his side, so still that Blake felt his heart jump until he sat up to verify that Avon was breathing. Against all odds, they were both alive. He brushed the dusty hair back from Avon's face, enjoying the simple human contact. Human on my part, Blake thought sadly. _Well, he's alive. Maybe it will wear off. In the meantime, I intend for us to survive._ "Avon. Wake up."

Avon blinked, stretched and yawned. For an instant Blake thought he was about to speak, but instead Avon began trying to lick the dust from his hands.

"No," Blake said firmly. "That can't be good for you. Here." He scooped up a handful of water and approached Avon. Avon growled, but when Blake put one hand heavily on the nape of his neck, he seemed resigned to the situation and allowed his face and hands to be washed, wincing as the cool water hit the irritated skin around the collar and his sunburns. "That's going to peel," Blake said, ruefully, feeling his own face. He had blistered patches, but his skin was not as fair as Avon's. "There, that should feel a bit better," Blake said, lifting his hand from Avon's neck.

Avon shook himself and turned his back on Blake, pointedly, but he turned back and watched closely as Blake dug a ration-bar out of his pack and divided it in half. "Eat," Blake ordered, putting one half in Avon's hand. Avon sniffed it, curled his lip and dropped it. He pushed sand over it, half-burying the bar before Blake could rescue it.

"That's all there is." Blake rewrapped Avon's share then ate his own bar trying to make it sound as though he was enjoying the tough, tasteless stick, but Avon wasn't paying attention. Instead he was pacing the limits of their little haven, scrambling a few feet up the rocks and poking his nose into every crevice. 

Blake finished eating, dusted his hands off on his equally dusty trousers and got up to help Avon investigate. Several of the holes were large enough to be worth exploring and one of them was especially promising as it seemed to enlarge the longer they followed it. After determining that, Blake resolved to rest by the pool for a day or two while he tried to reassemble their teleport bracelets- at least the communicator component- before seeing if they could reach a place with more resources. He fingered his collar and thought about trying to get them off, but decided it was too dangerous. He was only sure he could safely peel off the leather covering. That would ease the fit at least, but then the exposed metal would be unbearably hot in the sun. No, best to ignore them for now. Concentrate on the communicators. If _Liberator_ could be contacted, all their problems would be over. There would be some way of breaking Avon's conditioning, and between him, Avon and Vila, the collars would be easily removed. He was getting tired, though. It was time to rest. He looked around for his companion who had been continually prowling away and then returning to see what Blake was doing.

"Come, Avon. We're going back to the water. Avon. Avon!" Blake snapped, as he saw Avon pursuing a small creature that had too many legs. "Don't!" he shouted as Avon snatched up the creature. "It might be poisonous!" 

Avon glanced up, saw Blake running toward him and stuffed the entire wriggling thing into his mouth.

"Spit it out!" Blake grabbed Avon and pried his mouth open, risking a bite, but he was too late. "Damn it!" Avon was smug- for about half a minute- then his eyes grew round with surprise and he was retching uncontrollably, bringing up the unlucky creature mixed with plant matter and other strange items that he must have picked up along the way. Blake held him and soothed him until the last tremors faded. 

Avon was subdued after that. He let Blake bring him back to the pool and did not struggle as his face was bathed, then curled up half in Blake's lap and fell asleep. Blake stroked Avon's hair, a sad smile on his face. For once he could express his affection openly, but only because the object of it was unable to respond. It was a perverse universe.

***

Avon was slightly feverish and reluctant to move the next day beyond the minimum to attend to personal needs. Blake was glad that Avon could do that much for himself even if he didn't always bother to put his trousers on afterwards.

"Avon," Blake scolded gently as he hoisted the trousers back up around Avon's slim waist, "you don't want sunburn there."

Avon's reply, non-verbal, of course, consisted of a brief but deliberate rub against Blake before he returned to the patch of sand he'd chosen for his bed. Blake felt a peculiar twinge while contemplating Avon's disheveled form. He wasn't as sure as he'd like that it was pity. 

The day passed without incident mainly because Avon was too lethargic to cause mischief. Blake fiddled with the teleport bracelets halfheartedly, between intervals of trying to feed Avon or get him to drink. The tools weren't exactly right, and the bracelets had probably been damaged by Moro's technicians. He wasn't all that familiar with the circuitry either. It was Avon who'd taken the time to study the teleport system in detail. Blake had simply been glad to add that capability to his arsenal - as he had added the skills of his crew, even the reluctant ones. 

Blake glanced at Avon and frowned. It had been the right thing to do. The fate of millions was more important than the fate of the individual, even if that individual didn't agree. From Avon's point of view, it was every man for himself and Devil take the hindmost. Blake was under few illusions about his crew's motivation. Gan stayed not only out of loyalty, but because the limiter made him doubt his ability to survive alone while Vila needed someone to make decisions for him. Cally was determined to fight, with or without Blake, and appreciated _Liberator_ 's tactical advantages. Jenna loved the ship, and hoped for more from Blake than he felt able to offer. Avon... well, there was one he hadn't quite figured out. How had he become tangled up in Blake's cause? If Avon truly believed that what they were doing was not only suicidal, but pointless, why didn't he leave? Oh, he'd made no secret of desiring the treasure room and the ship, but he wouldn't steal it from Blake or harm its crew to acquire it- or even simply run off with it when he thought the others were probably dead on Horizon. He had his own peculiar moral sense- a rather touchingly childish one, at that. He wouldn't willingly hurt anyone who depended on him or betray a personal trust. For him there was nothing above the rights of the individual; provided he was the individual.

So why didn't he take his highly valued individual self to safety? Even before they acquired Orac, he could have hacked his way into a computer on some non-Federated world and created a new identity for himself. 

Oddly enough, Blake had always, as far back as the _London_ , known that Avon would never leave like that. But he still didn't know where that surety had originated. The Federation had taken that from him, the reasons behind many of his instinctive reactions. They'd mangled his memory and his dreams, his ambitions and his past. Inside Roj Blake there was a gap aching to be filled, but he had only a blurred outline to go by. He shook his head and returned to work on the bracelets until the light faded, then he put aside the tools and the partially completed bracelets and lay down beside his remaining companion.

Avon began feeling better once the sun went down. Blake first realized this when he woke to find Avon naked and hot against his side, rolling and rubbing against him, making soft, throaty noises. "No, Avon," Blake said hoarsely, already aroused, but fighting it. "Go back to sleep. You don't really want..." Blake lost track of his words as Avon opened Blake's trousers and ran sharp fingernails lightly over his penis. "OH!" Blake shut his eyes and threw his head back as Avon's mouth followed. Avon licked, and Blake's legs spread involuntarily. Avon licked harder and Blake moaned. Sly bastard. Pretended you couldn't get your own pants up, but ... Blake's thoughts spiraled off into pure sensation as the tip of a hot, wet tongue poked into the slit of Blake's cockhead. Blake cried out and came, grabbing Avon's head and holding him down to his crotch until he'd finished. Blake lay flat and gasping while he recovered. "You could... have... given me a bit... of warning, there," he finally said, before rising to an elbow and peering down at Avon. In the dim blue light of this planet's rather smallish moon he couldn't make out Avon's expression, but he could easily note the stiffly protruding part of Avon's anatomy that reached out to him.

He reached out, intent on returning the pleasure, but Avon hissed and rolled over onto his side. "What's the matter?" He was annoyed. Avon had gotten Blake off so quickly he hadn't really had a chance to enjoy it. Well, no, he'd enjoyed it, but it hadn't lasted long enough for him to be sure it had happened. That wasn't entirely Avon's fault. For as far back as Blake's faulty memory ran, he hadn't had sex with anyone, so it was no wonder he'd been precipitous. "Avon. Let me touch you." Avon growled and worked his way onto his hands and knees, folding himself so that his genitals were inaccessible. "I need you," Blake said, softly, in wonder at the revelation. He hadn't known, he hadn't known, all those days of smiling at Avon, of flinging banter at him, of holding him heartbeat close when the ship was buffeted in battle, all those days of carefully sidestepping Jenna's temptations that hadn't really tempted and he'd never known what he really wanted. What had the Federation done to him that he hadn't even known? His mind drew another conclusion. "You've always known, haven't you? That's why you stay." He reached out again and Avon backed away, in a shifting, sideways motion that presented his backside to Blake. To make the message clear Avon wriggled his bum.

"No," Blake said in shock, as the impossible, not-to-even-be-thought-of, was suddenly very possible. "I'll hurt you. And you aren't yourself, Avon. You won't forgive me for this later." But Blake was dry-mouthed with eagerness at the very idea of actually being inside Avon. He'd always wanted that, even when he had deluded himself that it was only Avon's mind that drew him. Avon gave a high-pitched, longing cry, and arched his back so sharply it had to hurt. He wriggled again, and yowled again. "Not so loud, Avon! There could be predators!" Blake tried to be sensible, but the scent of his own cum and the sight of Avon literally panting for it was arousing him again. 

"I can't," Blake said. " I mustn't. I have to be strong for us both." He was almost sobbing. "I have to. You're all I have left. I have to take care of you."

Avon arched again, and gave a wail of such loneliness and loss that Blake moved to comfort him. The instant his hands closed on Avon he knew he was lost. "Avon, no, I'm sorry," he sobbed as he lined up his cock and pushed. Avon stiffened and squalled and Blake wanted to stop, wanted to... oh, gods, he wanted Avon so badly. He dug his toes into the sand, clenched his hands around Avon's sweat-slippery waist and thrust hard. He could barely hear Avon's whimpers over his own moans of pleasure. Avon was under him, around him, holding him so closely, squeezing Blake so perfectly. "I need you. Want to... protect you. Show you... love... give you...everything," he gasped, punctuating his words with fierce pumps into Avon's soft, tender arse. "So sweet. So good." Avon was dry and clung around him so that Blake had to hold him tight in order to pull out, and even tighter to sheathe himself again. He wasn't all the way in, but he was getting deeper with each stroke. Sweat ran down his wide, hairless chest, gathered in the curls of his groin and moistened his thick cock as it emerged. It wasn't enough, but Avon was cooperating as best he could, spreading his legs and curving his back into an angle that would allow Blake easy access.

"I'm nothing. No one. I need you." Blake groaned and pumped, trying to slow down when Avon writhed in pain, but his balls begged to kiss Avon's arse and his cock insisted on filling Avon's arse and he couldn't make them listen to reason. Avon's muscles loosened and Blake moved faster, his cock lengthening even more inside Avon's depths. It was beyond feeling good, it was everything, it was the whole reason behind Blake's life. He shoved so hard he thought he would come out Avon's navel and froze, his crotch rammed up against Avon, pubis bone hard against the softly padded muscle of Avon's bottom. He was in all the way. Every inch of Blake was taken in and accepted. He was one with Avon. His balls throbbed and he began thrusting again. "You're mine. And I'm yours," he said in a deep, hoarse voice he didn't recognize. 

Avon shuddered all over and screamed, coming in hot splashes against his belly, droplets landing on Blake's hands encircling his waist as Blake said, "Yes, yes, that's it, that's it. Come for me. For me. Only for me," while pounding Avon's arse wildly, driven nearly insane with pleasure as muscles spasmodically clenched around his steel-hard cock. Avon's hands gave out and he slumped to the ground, but Blake was far from finished. He shifted his hold to Avon's shoulders and kept riding. Avon gasped beneath his weight, but otherwise lay still as Blake's hands roamed over his back and Blake's lips kissed his shoulders and Blake's powerful hips drove his cock into Avon until the very last bit of resistance was gone and Avon's arse no longer fought Blake's entrance. Blake buried himself in Avon and buried his face in Avon's shoulder, muffling his shout of triumph as he flowed, filling Avon with the heat of his very essence, etching his name into his lover's center.

Then Blake fell asleep, cock still lodged and arms still wrapped around Avon. He didn't sleep very long though, as Avon's wriggling brought him back to partial awareness. He clasped Avon around the waist and rolled the two of them over so that they were on their sides. Avon squirmed a few more times, but Blake's hand slipped down to his hip and kept them pressed together, still joined, still one.

***

It was light and the birds were singing the next time Blake woke. He was exhausted and he was exhilarated at the same time. He kissed Avon on the shoulder and gently pulled his penis out, watching as it slid free, spreading Avon's cheeks so he could fully enjoy the sight. Avon barely changed the tempo of his snoring as Blake examined him carefully. Avon was scratched and bruised and he would have difficulty sitting with any degree of comfort for several days, but there was no bleeding. He gathered Avon into his arms for a kiss and Avon still snored. "Absolutely fagged out, eh?" Blake chuckled. He stroked Avon's hair and smiled at him. "But will you remember this when you are yourself?" he whispered. "And will you hate me for it?" He refused to consider the possibility that Avon would never recover, even if that recovery meant he would lose his new-found love.

The silence was Blake's first warning. The birds had stopped singing. Suddenly it grew dark. He looked up at the hole high in the cliff face, and saw a foreshortened figure of a man, black against the sliver of sky still visible around him. Blake dove for the stun-gun, but too late.

***

"Well, well, well. That was fun, wasn't it, Blake?" The words were followed by a snicker, verging on a giggle.

Blake groaned and opened his eyes. "Doctor Moro. It was a trap, then." He was strapped down naked again, on what looked like the same table he'd previously occupied.

Moro said, "Of course. You don't really think my sweet little Eagle would ever dream of betraying me?" Moro patted his assistant on the backside. Eagle simpered in a fashion that made Blake feel sick. "That part of his animal nature has been quite thoroughly conditioned. As you were." Moro leaned over Blake, his hands touching everywhere, ostensibly checking the restraints. "You do know you were conditioned?"

"I was," Blake said, ignoring the gentle touches nearing his crotch. "But I'm free of it."

"You are now ," Moro said, "That was the whole point of this experiment. The record of your treatment was fascinating. You were to be an model citizen, a perfect, shining example of the Federation's benevolence and rehabilitation programme." He smiled. "For some reason, they felt that didn't include our kind."

"Our kind? I'm nothing like you."

"Oh? You don't like men? Not even your friend? Maybe you were confused. Any way you look at it, you had a nice bit of pussy, didn't you?"

Blake tensed, then forced himself to relax. No matter how vulgar and infuriating Moro was, Blake couldn't let himself become angered. He had to keep his wits about him. "How is Avon?"

"A bit sore, I should think." Moro wagged a finger at Blake. "You were rather- enthusiastic. Pity the collars had only a single fixed point monitor. Still, what with the locator, and the disciplinary devices, there really wasn't room for more. Fortunately, the infra-red scenes came out. I've already watched them several times." He smiled at Blake again. 

"What are you going to do with us?"

Moro looked Blake up and down. "I can always use healthy specimens. I still think Avon would look absolutely stunning in black feathers. Then again, the poor boy might try to eat himself." Moro gave another almost giggle. "He needs someone to protect him. Someone big and strong." He ran his hand over Blake's groin. "Someone who will take care of all his... needs."

"For your private amusement? Never."

"Are you sure? Absolutely certain?" Blake's grim, closed expression spoke louder than words. Moro sighed and said, "I can't force you, of course. Not without losing the delightful spontaneity. Oh, well." He pressed the control that tilted Blake's table. "Watch the monitor, Blake." Another control was activated and the wall-mounted monitor lit. The revealed scene showed a room virtually identical to the one Blake was in, except for the cast. Avon was strapped down to another table, inclined as Blake's was, so that he could easily see his friend's frightened face. Several of Moro's workers were also there, garbed in sterile gowns and masks. The view closed up on a set of surgical instruments, then panned back to a group of fluid-filled jars containing amorphously biological bits and pieces. "This is only the preliminary stage, of course," Moro said conversationally. "Implantation of feather buds, replacement of pedal extremities with claws, internalization of the genitalia... just the tip of the iceberg, as it were. I guarantee you by this time next week you won't recognize our little raven. I doubt he'll be able to fly, but he should be delightfully decorative. That is, unless he dies. I haven't quite gotten around an occasional little problem with shock, yet. But I will, I will," he said cheerfully. "Just a matter of practice."

"No," Blake said, while staring at Avon. 

"What? What was that?" Moro leaned toward Blake, cupping a hand behind his ear. "Did you just say that you would be glad to obey me?"

"Leave Avon alone. Use me for your experiment." 

"Of course, just as soon as I decide what would best complement your Avon. Any suggestions? No?" Moro turned back to the monitor. "Well then, we'll just muddle along and see what happens." He cleared his throat and one of the men who was gathered around Avon nodded and picked up a scalpel.

"NO! I'll do it! Anything."

Moro turned back. "You will obey without question. I will not waste my time arguing with you again."

"Just leave Avon alone." It wasn't a question. Blake glared at Moro.

Moro's pale eyes flickered. "Ah. Giving me orders? I really can't allow that. Fox," he said into the monitor's audio pickup, "bring that one here, now. Don't remove him from the table." He shut off the screen without waiting for a reply. "I like to watch," he said calmly, "but I wouldn't mind trying him out. Not in the least." He turned to Eagle and said, "Go to my quarters and fetch a few of my favorite toys." Eagle looked sulky, but he obeyed.

"No," Blake whispered.

"That is not a word I wish to hear from you. If you persist in being uncooperative, I may lose my temper. That would be such a pity- for your dear little friend." He removed his lab coat, went to a basin and proceeded to wash his hands and forearms with meticulous thoroughness. He was examining his fingernails when Eagle returned with a small satchel made of the ubiquitous pale leather. Moro opened it, glanced inside and grunted approval. Less than a minute later the doors were pushed open by a wheeled table. Avon was on it, wild-eyed with fear. Moro smiled as the table was brought up to him. "What a pretty little pussycat," Moro said, stroking Avon's hair, which was glossy with chestnut highlights under the bright lights, all the dust and dirt having been removed by the scrubbing he'd undergone for surgery. The sunburn and bruises had been treated as well. Looking at Avon's unmarked face, Blake might almost have thought the last few days a dream. A nightmare at this point, as Moro continued to caress Avon. "Let's see- how does it go? 'I love little pussy, Her coat is so warm, And if I don't hurt her, She'll do me no harm. So I'll not pull her tail, Nor drive her away, But pussy and I, Very gently will play.' Or perhaps not so gently." Moro chuckled softly as he emptied the satchel onto a table and began arranging obscene objects in a neat row.

"Moro, don't. It isn't necessary. You've convinced me. I'll do whatever you want," Blake's voice shook.

"Yes, I rather think you will. Fox, lock the table in place. Here, where Blake will have an unobstructed view." Moro directed his assistants in arranging Avon's body to suit his whims. First Avon's legs were lifted, forcibly bent back at the knees and firmly strapped down by the ankles to either side of his buttocks, despite frantic writhings. Then the end of the table, just past the point where Avon's ankles were fastened to the frame, was lowered to touch the floor, separating from the part which remained to support Avon's upper body , leaving his arse suspended and vulnerable. "You may go," he told Fox, who nodded again and left quickly. Eagle remained, the bulge at his crotch showing his interest. Moro was preternaturally calm, showing no signs of arousal. That frightened Blake even more. 

"Please, Doctor Moro, don't do this," Blake begged. 

Moro glanced back at Blake. "That's better. Good manners are very important, don't you think? The more polite you are to me, the more gentlemanly I'll behave." Moro removed one particularly vicious-looking item from the table, and replaced it in the satchel. "Thus."

"I'm begging you, Doctor Moro. Avon doesn't deserve to be punished."

"No, I suppose not. That's one of the things I like best about animals. They are innocent. And he is quite beautiful," Moro mused. "Very well."

Blake breathed a sigh of relief.

"I won't damage him. In fact, I will see to it that he enjoys this." He looked at Blake. "Any comments?"

Blake swallowed. "No."

"You do want me to make him happy, don't you?"

"Yes," Blake forced out. "Make Avon happy." He couldn't meet Moro's eyes, which seemed to please the scientist.

Moro nodded. "Good. You're learning." He picked up a short leather strap and fastened it around Avon's genitals. Avon snarled, but Moro merely said, "Ah, little one, you're frightened, aren't you? I think you will need some encouragement." He picked up a small, sealed vial from the assortment on the table, and filled a hypodermic with half its contents. He injected Avon in the thigh so deftly that the tiny puncture didn't bleed."Another hypo," Moro ordered, and Eagle hastened to bring one. Moro then injected himself with the remainder of the vial. He breathed in sharply, then sighed. "That's better." He opened the front of his trousers and ran his hands over his penis which immediately stiffened and lifted to fill his hands. "Eagle."

Eagle was obviously well trained, as he needed no further instructions in order to fall to his knees and suck the doctor into full erection. Moro was distressingly well-endowed, his penis long and thick, with a broadly flared head that glistened a deep purple-red as it bobbed above large, coarsely haired testicles, plump and round with promise. "Enough." Moro waved Eagle back despite his look of disappointment. "I promised Blake. Attend to Avon." Eagle was quite pleased with this order, and moved in between Avon's widespread legs. Blake could see that Avon was still frightened, but Eagle's experience overcame that, gulping noisily as he engulfed Avon and quickly coaxed him into responding. Moro watched and was becoming visibly more excited by the moment, his cock ribbed with pulsing blue veins, engorging even further. Under the flush, Blake could see faint white scar lines, and he realized that Moro had been surgically augmented in both length and circumference- his fists clenched uselessly, as he bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying anything that might make Moro angry. If Moro wasn't careful, he could rip Avon apart. Avon's hisses faded into helpless panting and his lean hips twitched as Eagle rolled Avon's balls and stroked the tender inside of his thighs. Blake could see everything, down to the pucker of Avon's anus reflected in the dropped surface of the metal table. Moro dripped a thick gel over Eagle's fingers, and Eagle inserted them into Avon, pushing in one finger at a time, pulling back for more gel, then pushing in again. Avon's leg muscles shuddered as he was teased into opening further, until Eagle's entire hand was in Avon, up to the wrist, and Avon was riding him, lifting his hips and swaying in time with the hidden movements of the fingers, revealed in the play of tendons in Eagle's wrist. Blake's mouth was dry, and his stomach knotted, but he couldn't avert his gaze, couldn't stop his own cock from hardening, throbbing hot against his belly. Suddenly Moro grabbed Eagle's shoulder and pulled him back to lie sprawling on the floor. 

"Pretty, pretty pussy," Moro crooned, as he brought his cock, slick with lubricant and dripping with pre-cum, into alignment with Avon. Avon whimpered as Moro moved, pushing harder and harder, leaning forward until, with a gasp of pleasure from the doctor, drowned out by Avon's squall of pain, the thick knobby head had been inserted. "Oh, what a lovely pussy you are," he murmured as Avon writhed uselessly, trying to pull away. "Easy my pet, easy." Moro grasped Avon's knees and pulled, levering himself in deeper. Avon cried out as several more inches of bulging cock forced their way in. Blake bit his lip until it bled, keeping his silence. Moro arched his back and panted with effort. "Tight. Oh, yes. Push, Eagle!" Moro shouted, and his assistant put both hands on his master's buttocks and gave a quick hard shove at the same time the doctor thrust. Avon shrieked again, leg muscles convulsing. Moro grimaced and backed up slightly. "More gel," he gasped. Eagle ran to obey, pouring the thick creamy gel over Moro's cock. "Get it in him," Moro ordered. Eagle tried to push a finger in past Moro, but the huge cock had Avon stretched drum-tight. 

"Please," Blake said, hoarsely. "He can't take you. He can't."

"He can," Moro panted. "And he will!" Moro pulled out roughly and snatched the gel from Eagle. He tore open Eagle's trousers and poured gel on the prick that sprang out of confinement. Eagle was largely built too, but had nothing like the monstrous club that Moro sported. "Open him up for me, my Eaglet," Moro commanded.

Eagle grinned madly and mounted Avon, ramming himself in to the hilt as Avon sobbed aloud. Eagle held onto Avon's legs and moved furiously, stretching Avon with each thrust. Avon's hands clawed uselessly at the air and he cried out, wordlessly wailing. "Faster, Eagle. Faster!" Moro urged, holding onto his immense cock with both hands to keep himself from coming. Eagle grunted, lowered his head, and obeyed, sliding in and out faster and faster, until at last, he arched hard, shouted, and clung to Avon, jerking in deep, once, twice, and finally a third time. He collapsed across the table, gasping for breath.

"Get off!" Moro snapped. Eagle lifted his head, shook it and his glazed eyes cleared. He nodded and pulled himself out, cum mixed with the lubricant gel dripping from Avon. Avon made a soft, terrified sound as Moro approached again, holding himself up for display.

"You said you'd make him happy!" Blake shouted, nearly dislocating his shoulders as he fought the straps.

Moro paused. The pain had overcome the cock-ring, and Avon was limp beyond any pretense of arousal. "Another dose," Moro ordered, and Eagle stumbled to obey, getting another vial and hypodermic. This time Moro allowed Eagle to give the injection, but he didn't let him suck Avon again. "I'm not waiting," Moro growled. He put his cockhead at Avon's opening and thrust, getting much farther in this time. "Ahhh. Good pussy." He caught his breath, then began working methodically at stretching Avon to accept him. Avon whimpered and Moro shifted, trying another angle. "Halfway, puss," he said, looking down at the length of cock protruding from his victim. "Let me in, pussycat." Moro stepped in closer and began rubbing his hands over Avon's penis, forcing it to grow. He tugged on Avon's balls and pulled the strap surrounding them tighter until they began to purple with congested blood and twitch independantly of his movements. When he had Avon distracted by the increasing discomfort in his testicles, Moro's thrusts gained him more ground. Avon was tiring and unable to fight anymore. Moro's awkward movements became smoother, his hips flexing with greater ease at each inward stroke. Blake looked on in shock as Moro achieved full penetration to no more than a timid mew of protest from Avon. Moro jerked his hips from side to side, trying to get in even deeper until his balls were engulfed by Avon's crack. He rested for a second, letting his head fall onto Avon's heaving stomach, Avon's dripping cock erect beside him, leather strap invisible in the swollen scarlet flesh, Avon's balls drawn up tight and quivering to the base of the abused penis. He laughed at the sight. "See, Blake, he loves it?" Then he lifted up on his elbows and proceeded to plow Avon mercilessly. It went on and on, Moro groaning in pleasure as Avon's flesh encased, then released, his huge instrument of torture. He used Avon's pre-cum to lubricate himself again and moved even faster and harder. "Oh, oh, oh," he moaned, and stopped. Abruptly, in the middle of raping Avon, he turned his head to Blake, perfectly calm and collected, and said, "watch this." He reached forward and untied Avon's ankles, guiding the slender legs around his waist. Unable to find any other point of balance, Avon's legs tightened on his tormentor. "Eagle. The rest," Moro panted, standing there, tense and trembling, with Avon pulled tight against his groin. Eagle removed the rest of Avon's restraints. Blake expected him to go for Moro's throat, but Avon just lay there, making that soft, now-constant cry of pain deep in his throat. He didn't even open his eyes when Moro, with Eagle's help, arranged Avon's arms around Moro's neck. Avon hung on, head drooping as Eagle lifted and lowered him onto his master's cock, until Moro came with such force that semen poured out of Avon and dripped down his legs.

Eagle slid Avon off to lie on the floor at Moro's feet, twitching and trembling.

"Bastards, bastards," Blake raged, then recollected who would be punished for his words and went pale.

Moro caught his breath with remarkable speed and told Blake, "That's all right. I understand. You're jealous."

"You're insane."

"Am I? I'm the one in charge. I decide whether you live or die. I decide the manner of that death, if I choose to bestow it. I decide! I! I! I!" Moro was shouting, then abruptly, he calmed and brushed his hair back, pushed his deflated cock back into his trousers and zipped himself up. When he was restored to order he went to Blake's table. "As I was saying, you are merely suffering the pangs of jealousy. But it was your own fault, driving me to that demonstration of my mastery. Now I am in a good mood, thanks to your little pussycat and I feel generous. I did say that I would make him happy, didn't I? Well, I think I will make you happy, too. Eagle, bring pussy," Moro ordered as he leveled, then lowered Blake's table to the ground. 

Moro took one of Avon's arms, helping Eagle lay the semi-conscious man on Blake's chest, legs stretched to either side of Blake's hips. "NO!" Blake protested, realizing the true meaning of horror, but he could do nothing to stop them from arranging Avon suitably to receive Blake's penis which refused to deflate despite his desperate wishes. "Don't do this, I beg of you," he said, as Eagle casually guided Blake to Avon's hole. 

"Nonsense. It's what you want. It's even what he wants." Moro removed the leather strap from Avon's genitals. Avon gasped and opened his eyes at that, staring down into Blake's face. He didn't try to escape as he was bent and spread and spitted, rather he put his hands against Blake's chest and locked eyes with Blake, ignoring what was being done to him. 

"I'm sorry, Avon," Blake said softly and Avon's hand touched his face, gently.The two madmen began rocking Avon back and forth on Blake. On the first stroke Avon came, tightening on Blake with a sharp cry as he released his hot seed over Blake's heaving belly. Blake couldn't stop the moan of pleasure that slipped from his lips and was ashamed of it until he looked into Avon's eyes. There was pain and fear and bewilderment in the darkness that met him, but no censure, no blame. Avon moved on Blake of his own accord, wincing, but still willing to please Blake. "Oh, Avon," Blake murmured, torn between love and lust. "Kiss me," he asked. Only Avon didn't understand, couldn't. At best he could sense that Blake wanted something. Avon lowered his head to Blake's chest and licked at a nipple. It wasn't what he'd asked for, but the tenderness of that gesture undid Blake. With a soft groan, he tensed and let it happen. Even like this, it felt so wonderfully good to release inside Avon, to feel his pumping cock flood his friend with his seed, that he could not wish it hadn't happened. 

"You will obey from now on, won't you, Blake?" Moro asked, conversationally. "I would prefer not to directly service Avon in future. It is a more efficient utilization of my time if I am aroused by vids before taking my Eaglet. He is totally amenable, but less than stimulating." Moro sighed. "It is a nuisance, but my gonads demand frequent intercourse. It was probably hubris that motivated me to improve myself with both equus and lepus, but the inconvenience is not an insurmountable one. Provided you cooperate fully."

Blake opened his eyes. He was so wiped out emotionally that nothing seemed to matter. "Yes. Whatever you say."

Moro smiled. "Excellent. Eagle will show you and Avon to your new quarters. Now that he has been broken in, you should have no difficulty with him. I will require at least two penetrations of Avon by you per diem, anything beyond that is up to you. Try not to bore me, will you?" Moro nodded pleasantly. "Now, Eagle, bring Avon into the light."

Avon was lifted off Blake, whimpering and reaching out for him in confusion, but Eagle had no problem separating them. He laid Avon face down on the other table, legs dangling off the still-lowered end while Moro made certain that there was no serious damage to intestines or anus, then he treated the friction burns on Avon's wrists and ankles, and gave him a sedative. He patted Avon on the shoulder and told Blake, "he'll sleep for about sixteen hours. Your schedule will begin tomorrow."

***

"Avon?" Blake said softly, once the door to their 'new quarters' slid shut. Avon had been laid on a wide, bare, solid dura-foam bed while Moro's men had escorted Blake in. He checked that Avon was still out, then he examined the three rooms that made up their suite. The door was featureless with barely a hairline crack outlining it. There were no other openings anywhere larger than three inches, and those were widely separated ventilation shafts near the ceiling. The walls were solid and the floors were soft. There was a fully-equipped hygienic unit, some immovably secured, sealed unit exercise equipment , and four pieces of furniture; the bed, two chairs and a table. The bed and table were solidly affixed to the floor and the chairs were a rigid light-weight foam. Blake paced the length and breadth of the suite, searching every inch of it and came to the conclusion that two naked men could only leave this room if someone opened the door from the outside.

Long before Avon awoke Blake had begun to wonder if the door would ever open again. Moro didn't intend to turn them in for the reward or interrogate them or even torture them for fun, so why should it open? As far as Moro was concerned, he'd trained two animals and provided them with the appropriate environment to live in while they performed. Blake was sitting on the bed beside Avon when a beep sounded. Blake looked up as a slot opened near the floor and a gray tray was pushed into the room. He got up to investigate. The tray contained a vitamin beverage, protein sticks, and reconstituted Federation troop rations in three different colors; green soy-vegetable, brown roughage, and a pink sweet. It was better than People Chow, any road. There were also utensils, but they were made of a weak fibrous material, utterly useless as tools. He pushed the tray aside and went back to pacing. The next time he happened to glance back at the door, the tray, beverage container, utensils and dishes had all crumbled, making a mess out of proportion to the small amount of material involved. He hadn't anything else to do, so he scooped up the worst of it and flushed it down the commode. 

He was still pacing when a second delivery came. This time he ate. It was easier than throwing it away. After that he slept a bit, lying close enough to Avon so that he could feel the other man's warmth. He woke and deduced it must have been the meal-beep that had awakened him as there was another tray on the floor. No. There were two trays, each with an identical meal. Moro must have expected Avon to need his share now. "Avon?" Blake went to his friend and touched him lightly, expecting- well, he didn't know what he was expecting. 

Avon's eyes flew open and he rolled over, falling off the bed and getting to his feet in one clumsy, uncoordinated movement which was so fast that Blake hadn't a chance to stop him. Avon ran and Blake followed. After the first instinctive grab Blake didn't try to catch him, but every time Avon came to a blank wall and turned, Blake was there, holding his arms out and waiting. At last Avon wound up back in the first room, panting and cringing every time Blake made any sound. He crept to the side of the bed and after he found he couldn't get under the solid dura-foam, he just sat there curled up tight, arms around his knees, only his wide, dark eyes showing. "Avon," Blake tried again, and was relieved to see Avon's eyes go to him. "You're safe here. It's only me. I won't hurt you." Then he recalled his 'duty' and said, "Well, I'll do my best not to hurt you. Come here, Avon. There's food," he called, trying to tempt.

Avon lifted his head and watched as Blake retrieved the two trays. 

"It would be more comfortable at the table." Blake waved at the chairs and table at the other end of the room.

Avon ducked his head down again.

Blake sighed. "All right. But if you don't eat it soon, it'll be all over the place. Here." He put one tray down within Avon's reach and began eating from the other one. Avon watched him, expressionless, but his head lifted again, nostrils flared, and his tongue went out to touch his lips. "It's all right," Blake said soothingly. He reached out a hand very, very slowly, holding a spoonful of pink 'pudding' out to Avon. He didn't know what cats ate, but Avon had always had a bit of a sweet tooth. Avon stretched his neck to sniff, then his tongue to taste. He licked his lips and looked thoughtful, then leaned over to Blake again, butting against Blake's chest in demand, ignoring his own tray.

"So, you liked that?" Blake gave Avon the spoon and curled his fingers around it showing him how to hold it. Avon dropped it and tried to lick the pink straight out of the bowl. Blake patiently picked up the spoon again, but Avon shoved his face in the bowl. Blake pulled the bowl back and tried to give Avon a spoonful. Avon wouldn't take it and tried to knock the bowl out of Blake's hand. They went back and forth several times, until Avon got his way through sheer obstinacy, but Blake did manage to persuade him to hold the protein sticks. Avon ate both sweets and all the protein sticks, leaving Blake with the least appetizing parts of the meal. Afterward, they sat on the floor for a long time, Avon curled against Blake's chest, Blake slowly stroking Avon's hair and rubbing his shoulders and back while he tried to explain the situation to him. 

"We can't escape. _Liberator_ was our only hope, but there isn't any way of contacting her, even if she hasn't been destroyed. Moro can do anything he likes to us." He was talking for the monitors as well as Avon, of course. Avon seemed to enjoy the sound of Blake's voice, visibly calming the longer Blake spoke. "We have to... have sex with each other to amuse him." _I wanted to say 'make love' but Avon's always despised sentiment. There's little enough I can do to preserve his dignity. I can't presume on a relationship which doesn't exist._

Avon cuddled closer and gave Blake a quick lick across his chest. Blake inhaled sharply, then looked down on Avon, smiling. "I'm glad to see that you agree with me. We haven't any choice at the moment." He gave the monitors a glare. "Not at the moment." Moro would know that Blake hadn't really given in, so it was unlikely they'd be punished for that remark. So long as Blake obeyed, Moro wouldn't care what Blake thought. "Come on, don't fall asleep. Not just yet." He got to his feet, pulling Avon up after him. He nose wrinkled as he caught the scent of dried sweat and semen. Avon hadn't been washed after his rape, just patched up. The smell turned Blake's stomach. "Let's take a shower, hm? Get the smell of them off you. You're mine, and I want you to smell of me," he added, thinking that perhaps Moro would be offended. Hard to tell what would offend a madman, but no sense in taking chances. Moro didn't even have to open the door to punish them. He could pipe gas through the vents, or shut off the water, or stop providing food or... Blake shook his head. No sense borrowing trouble.

"Come, Avon," he called, softly, and Avon followed him into the hygiene unit, limping slightly. When Blake turned on the water in the shower, Avon hissed and backed up against the wall, eyeing the water with undisguised hostility. Apparently, he remembered Badger and the hose. Blake adjusted the temperature and flow to a warm, gentle spray. "It's all right. You'll like this. Don't you want to be clean?" He stepped under the shower, gathered a handful of liquid soap from the dispenser and began lathering himself. Avon looked uneasy, but he didn't leave the room. Blake reached out his hand and started toward Avon. Avon backed up and Blake said, "Come, sweetheart. It's all right." Avon hissed, turned, and bolted. Blake sighed, feeling his patience fraying. The more he ordered, the less Avon obeyed. He quirked a grin. That aspect of Avon's personality hadn't changed. His grin widened as he remembered another thing about Avon. He hated being ignored. Oh, he could go off and sulk, but just let Blake try to get a little quiet time to himself and Avon was at his cabin door with a piece of equipment that Blake had to see right now or a tidbit of information that Blake needed. Blake laughed and began singing his favorite shower song. He was getting wrinkled and his throat was tired by the time he caught sight of Avon, restless in the doorway. He held out his hand again. Avon blinked and came closer, casually, as if he just happened to be walking in this direction. He kept up the pose even after he stepped hesitantly into the shower with his eyes squinted half-shut. The water was still warm. Avon blinked again, then moved in close, raising his hands to Blake's shoulders while he stared intently into Blake's eyes. "Avon? Is it you?" Blake whispered, seeing something in the dark gaze.

Avon nosed in Blake's armpit, butting him imperiously, demanding petting. "I guess not," Blake said to himself. "You know," he said conversationally as he began carefully soaping down Avon's back, trying not to press against bruises or strained muscles, "I could get to like you like this. I get to win all the arguments. Ouch! You need your claws clipped, my friend," Blake said, rubbing at his backside. "Or was that a hint?" Blake's hands dropped, one to either side, and ever so delicately cupped Avon's bottom. Avon made a small noise and pressed even harder against Blake, trembling. "Shh, shh. I know." Keeping one hand soaping between Avon's cheeks, Blake brought his other hand around to the front and began fondling Avon's soft cock. Blake was already excited, had been excited from the moment he stepped into the shower, feeling Avon's eyes on him, knowing what he was going to do to Avon. His cock was large and hot against Avon's thigh, rubbing as he petted Avon. Avon tried to move away from it, but Blake soothed him with soft kisses along Avon's neck and softer words breathed into Avon's ear. "I'll be gentle, Avon. I promise."

There was a dispenser marked 'lubricant' set in the shower wall beside the soap dispenser. Moro was very efficient, Blake admitted. He gathered a generous portion and slicked himself up. It felt good, but he was saddened that Avon couldn't do it for him. Avon was breathing rapidly, but not in arousal. Blake massaged Avon's penis to no effect. He sighed into Avon's neck. "I'm sorry. I know you're frightened, but we have to do it. It's me or Moro." He put a well-lubed finger up Avon's arse. Avon stood on his toes, and whimpered softly. "Shh. It will be all right." He slipped to his knees, hugging Avon around the waist, and kissed the tip of Avon's penis. It was well-shaped and a pretty dusky pink color, and entirely unresponsive. Blake tried a brief suckle, but that only frightened Avon more. He leaned his head against Avon's flat stomach, warm water flowing over his back, and simply held on. Avon was frightened of him. How could he go on with this? How could he not, knowing the alternative. He found himself crying, and was glad of the shower, of the water that hit his face and hid his shame. A tender hand touched him, tracing along his cheekbone, following the down-turned line of his mouth. Blake looked up at Avon who had his head turned quizzically to one side. Blake gave him a rueful grin. "Yes, I am feeling a bit sorry for myself, now that you mention it."

Avon dropped to his hands and knees beside Blake and stared at him for a long moment before turning and presenting himself. "Oh, Avon," Blake said softly. He touched Avon's cheeks, spreading them carefully. _He's bruised. No matter what, this will hurt._ Blake took a deep breath, and pushed his re-lubed finger back into Avon. Avon tensed, but quickly relaxed. More lube, another finger, still more lube, a third finger. Avon's anus stretched slowly, the muscles stiff from previous abuse, but he did eventually loosen. _There's something I should know. Something ..._ Blake's searching fingers encountered a firm bulge, and Avon gasped, arching his back, as Blake pressed against his prostate gland. "Does that feel good, love?". Avon wriggled around Blake's fingers in answer. Blake reached his other hand between Avon's legs. Avon was beginning to stiffen. "That's better," Blake said, working his fingers back and forth with more confidence. "I can't wait much longer," he warned, hoarsely. 

Avon made a small mewing sound which Blake took for encouragement. He positioned himself behind Avon and pulled his fingers out. One hand guided his cock while the other reached under to caress Avon. "Hold still," Blake said, voice thick with arousal. Naturally, Avon squirmed. Blake released Avon's cock and spread the fair-skinned cheeks wide, exposing the arsehole. Avon looked very small, and Blake's stomach knotted with the sickening knowledge that he was larger than average. But there was no help for it. Avon was greased and prepared. He wouldn't be damaged. He'd just be hurt. By Blake. Again. Blake drew a deep breath, and pushed himself into Avon. He meant to go slow, but the first tight grip around him went directly to his balls and his brain had no control anymore. Avon shook under the force of it as Blake slammed into him, making a sharp cry at the sudden invasion. Blake locked his elbows, keeping himself fully inserted but unmoving for several seconds, trying to give Avon a chance to adjust, but he couldn't stop for long. His balls ached and his cock throbbed and he simply had to pull out and thrust. Avon was so sexy, so smooth-skinned and beautiful, Blake had to have him, had to own him. He leaned forward, hips pumping, and bit at the back of Avon's neck. Avon squalled and arched and Blake slid in with perfect ease penetrating all the way, loving the clasp of Avon's anus around the root of his penis, the slick warm insides of Avon, the way Avon smelled now, all clean and innocent, the sounds Avon made, the little tremble of him every time Blake's cockhead bumped Avon's secret spot. 

"Beautiful. Avon, I love you. I've always..." Blake's knee slipped and his cock dug in at an angle. The new sensation was even more wonderful. He began experimenting, pulling out until only the head remained in possession of Avon, then rolling his hips from side to side, before shoving back in. Avon's squirmings and cries excited Blake further. "No, no, not yet," Blake groaned, and pulled out entirely, squeezed himself to hold off the inevitable. He laid Avon down on his back and lifted the slender legs, locking the knees over his shoulders. Avon resisted the new position, but Blake was much stronger. He licked and kissed the inside of Avon's thighs, using both hands to play with Avon's cock and balls until Avon was finally fully erect. Satisfied, Blake crammed himself back into Avon's tunnel, making Avon thrash and squeal with outraged delight. It was even better this way. His control was absolute. Avon could do nothing to deny Blake's mastery, could only writhe on Blake's prick and please them both with his trembling and futile struggles. And Avon was enjoying it. His beautiful lips rounded in an 'O' of ecstasy, and Avon's hands pulled Blake down as often as they pushed him away. Blake flattened Avon under his weight and tried to kiss him on the mouth, but that was the one thing Avon refused him, turning his head aside and baring his teeth in threat when Blake persisted. A hard thrust up Avon's bottom and the threat faded, replaced by lust, and he clenched down tightly on Blake's buried cock.

Blake clutched Avon tightly, moaned with the pure and absolute joy of it all and came, his prick jetting hot juice into the hot flesh surrounding hiim. He stayed, panting, on top of Avon until his cock softened and slid out of its own accord. Only then did he think of Avon. He sat back, took Avon by the arms and pulled him up. "Avon?" he asked. 

Avon's eyes looked tired, with dark smudges along the cheekbones to attest to his weariness, but there was no anger in them. He put one hand on Blake's chest, leaned against him, closed his eyes and almost immediately began making Avon's own particular night music, the harsh, resonant buzz like purring to Blake's ears.

It would be all right. Blake's heart sang. He resisted the impulse to follow Avon's example and got up to shut off the water and cycle on the hot air drying jets. He got Avon onto his feet, interrupting the snoring only briefly before Avon slumped bonelessly in his clasp once more. Once they were both dry and warm again, Blake half-carried Avon back to the wide bed, dumped him in the middle and flopped down next to him, groping for Avon's hand before he fell asleep.

***

As imprisonments go, Blake judged this one better than all the others he'd experienced- and worse. He wasn't cramped in a tiny cubicle, starved, beaten, electro-shocked, mind-probed, or even so much as shouted at. But the unreality of the unchanging environment ate at his mind until he doubted everything he thought he knew. Had he ever been free? Were _Liberator_ and her crew nothing more than dreams? Had Avon ever been the sly, witty, not-quite-follower who took a wicked delight in repartee? Had he ever lived a placid life of lies in Earth's dome-cities? His sister, brother, mother, father, uncle, cousin Inga and her pet- were they all the product of imagination, of his longing for freedom, for family, for something outside this padded candy-box existence? He was adrift.

The only real sense of the passage of time was provided by the food delivery, which was at regular intervals mainly so that Blake would know if he was falling behind on his duty. If he hadn't screwed Avon at least twice by the time the third meal of the day was delivered, an alarm would ring. He hadn't been told what it meant, but he knew. As he knew that Moro would coldly torture Avon in front of him, in the name of efficiency, if he didn't meet his quota. That is, if Moro was real.

He had appropriated one of the greasy protein sticks to use as a writing implement, and marked off the passage of days on the wall. One of the many monitors set behind unbreakable glass in the walls observed him, but he wasn't told not to do it. He wasn't told anything. Moro's parting words about his schedule were the last he'd heard from another human being- if you counted Moro as human. No one replied when he tried to talk to whoever slipped the food through the slot, no one replied when he had a fit of rage and screamed obscenities at the monitors, no one replied when he talked to himself. And worst of all, no one replied when he talked to Avon. Avon was gentle, Avon was affectionate, Avon was willing to try any sexual variant Blake could think of, and Avon was mute and uncomprehending. His face was still intelligent and thanks to the depilatory dispenser, clean-shaven, but he never so much as cried out Blake's name in passion. There were times Blake wanted to beat Avon into talking and one terrible day when he almost did, but the look in Avon's eyes after the first blow had stopped him. He had wept and fallen to his knees hating himself, rocking back and forth in his misery until a pair of strong arms wrapped around him and Avon for once held and comforted Blake.

That had been five days ago; fourteen days after their second capture according to the grease on the wall. Blake no longer tried to get Avon to talk to him. Avon could communicate his needs and his desires quite well without words. Blake fancied that Avon did understand, at least he thought those wide, guileless eyes always softened when Blake whispered love-words to him.

The one thing that made it all bearable was Avon, and not just for the stupendously mind-blowing sex. Avon, curled trustingly around him made it possible for Blake to sleep. Avon, licking at the corner of Blake's mouth made it possible for him to smile. Avon, rolling onto his back and purring at night, gave Blake a center in the darkness. Avon gave him a belonging with, and a belonging to. 

And the sex wasn't half-bad either. Blake shook off his morose thoughts and finished making another check-mark signifying the third meal of the day. "Avon. Do you want to do it now?" he asked. Avon was lying on the bed batting a protein stick from hand to hand, but he looked up at that, eyes bright with interest, recognizing the tone if not the words. He dropped the stick and yawned, then reached both hands down to fondle himself, spreading his legs wide as he did so. Blake grinned and went to fetch the lube. 

"Who's my little sweetheart, then?" Blake crooned as he slipped two fingers up inside Avon's readily unfurling opening, looking down into Avon's steady gaze. By now, he thought they could probably do without the lube, but he relished any opportunity to pamper his lover and this gentle preliminary had become one of their favorite rituals. Blake also enjoyed it when Avon decided to preen him and licked Blake from top to toe, but that was only when Avon was in the mood for it. The lubing was one thing Avon always liked, even in his sleep responding to a greasy finger in his arse by pushing back on it and sighing. The only thing he liked better was riding Blake's big prick, now that he had fully recovered from Moro's abuse and it no longer mingled pain with the pleasure. Blake's control was better now, too, now that he was no longer driven by sexual deprivation. He'd only heard the third meal alarm once.Well, after all, they needed something to pass the time.

"Do you want it?" Blake asked, waggling his cock in front of Avon's face. Avon responded by rising on his elbows to lick the tip, tickling the slit and running his tongue around the flared rim. "Ah!" Blake caught his breath. "I'll take that for a 'yes'. He knelt and spread Avon's legs to either side of his hips and waited a second for them to clasp him tightly before he mounted Avon, pulling the slender body onto his waiting wet spike. He slid in easily, moaning as his balls bumped against Avon's arse and the anal ring tightened about him. He particularly liked this position with Avon's torso pressing against his and Avon's thighs wrapped warmly about his waist. It wasn't one of the easy ways, but he loved feeling so protective, so huge and strong with Avon a delicate and fragile creature needing to be filled and controlled and led.

He gulped a few breaths. His heart pounded so hard there was a ringing in his ears. He shook his head and the buzz died away. "Blake! Blake? Um? Blake?" Another dream. That sounded like Vila, timid and confused, the way Vila always was. He had been fond of his dream-Vila, but his hallucination had picked a poor time to intrude. "Go away, Vila," Blake growled and lifted Avon up, almost high enough to free him from Blake's prick. As Avon's head raised over Blake's shoulder his eyes widened and he began squirming. "Hold still," Blake muttered and pulled Avon back down again. Avon lost his balance, sliding down faster, and harder, than Blake had intended. "Keep your mind on business, Avon," Blake said as Avon's legs began wriggling, almost as if he was trying to get off of Blake.

"Blake?" Vila was persistent, Blake would grant him that. Every time Blake lifted Avon, his lover tensed and tried to climb higher. This was becoming a nuisance. If Avon wasn't careful, he would slip free of Blake's dick. He decided Avon wanted to change positions and quickly pushed him back onto the bed, grabbing knees and locking them over his shoulders. Avon was turning red in the face. Why, it almost looked as if he were angry, which was ridiculous. Avon loved this. "Quit squirming. I'm doing the best I can! Remember, you wanted to be fucked now!" Avon flushed even brighter and turned his face aside, but he stopped wriggling, which was a relief. Blake had been unable to get a proper rhythm going.

"Er. Blake? We've come to rescue you?" Now it was Gan, sounding apologetic. 

"Later, Gan," Blake growled, pumping hard. Avon was not quite whimpering beneath him, as Blake found the angle that hit the prostate just right. He pumped and sweated, ignoring the increasingly heavy breathing he imagined he heard behind him.

"What should we do?" the Vila-voice asked, a bit high-pitched and breathless. "The monitor's on!"

Blake grunted. Who cared about the monitor? He must have fucked Avon forty or fifty times with the cameras running. _Let Moro watch so that he could stick it up his pitiful whining slave. Let the troopers watch while they screwed each other into the ground. Who cared? As long as he had his nice, fat prick spearing Avon's behind, he didn't give a damn._

"Someone will be coming, then," replied Gan.

_Yes, I will. But not until I'm damn good and ready._

"Gotta admire his stamina," Vila said, "but I don't wanna get added to the floor show." The voice came closer and Blake felt the imaginary heat of another body at his back. "Time to go, Blake." And something cold and hard clamped onto his arm. He froze, looking down as a hand reached between him and his lover to place a teleport bracelet on Avon's wrist. "Teleport now!" Vila shouted, just as the door that never opened slid open and Blake looked up past Vila's rather flushed and sweaty face at a number of Federation troopers aiming guns at him and Avon.

Blake flattened protectively over Avon as the light flashed bright around him and a once familiar sensation twisted his guts. He blinked and raised his head, looking around. They were on _Liberator_. He was lying on the teleport platform with his dick stuck up Avon's arse and Gan and Vila standing over their entwined forms. 

Gan looked rather sheepish, but Vila was eying them with interest. 

"What are you looking at?" Avon snapped.

"Those collars," Vila replied quickly. He knelt beside Blake for a moment, then shrugged. "Fused. Have to lubricate and deep-probe ... um... well before I can get my tool into the hole... er, if you want to get off- I mean, get the collars off..."

"What?" Blake asked, still dazed. He looked down at Avon, who had gone beyond red to purple. _Had Avon said something a moment ago?_

"Get off!" Avon shouted in his face and pushed at him, but Blake couldn't move at first. When he finally realized that this was no hallucination and tried to withdraw, Avon yelled, "Damn!" and grabbed at him, holding him in place.

"Avon? You're talking? Since when?"

Avon tried again to move, yelped again and lay back with a resigned look on his face. In an unnaturally calm voice that sent shivers up Blake's spine, he said, "My mother told me I spoke my first sentence at eight months old. I don't recall the event personally. Don't move," he added.

"Avon. When did you recover?"

"How should I know? I didn't have my chronometer with me." Avon scowled at Blake. "Don't give me that wounded martyr look. We both survived. You took charge as usual, and your heroic sacrifice saved the day, also as usual." Blake said nothing, but his eyes were fixed on Avon. The depth of sadness in those large, gentle eyes would have softened even the hardest heart.

Avon sighed."I fail to see why the timing of my recovery is so important. I also fail to see why we must discuss it now," he said, plaintively. 

"Because I need to know now." Blake refused to break gazes with Avon. He was afraid that, given the chance, Avon would dismiss their new relationship as an aberration brought on entirely by Moro's treatments. He was even more afraid that Avon was right. Even at the beginning, he had felt there remained something of Avon's true personality; he had believed that Avon was willing- no, more than willing- eager to accept Blake's love. Had he been lying to himself? Had Avon been a helpless victim, unable to understand what Blake felt for him? Had he been using a dumb beast, an animal submitting to its master out of fear of punishment? Blake felt sick.

Avon reached a hand up to touch Blake's face. "Yes, you do, don't you?" he said softly. He sighed again, glanced to one side at the others, then looked back at Blake. He muttered, "The first shower."

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

Avon raised an eyebrow. "How? Should I have gazed lovingly into your limpid eyes and murmured, 'Hello, Blake, I'm back?' We were being watched."

"You could have given me some clue."

"You've always been clueless, Blake."

Blake glared at Avon. "You let me make a fool of myself."

Avon smiled sweetly. "Ah, but you are so good at it. Practice makes perfect, isn't that what they say?"

"I suppose you enjoyed it, didn't you?" At Avon's lascivious expression, Blake added, "Making me worry about you, I mean. Did it pander to your ego, to know how miserable you could make me?"

"You didn't exactly appear to be suffering," Avon replied, but he couldn't meet Blake's gaze. "Oh, all right. I might very well have told you. But, beyond the sadistic satisfaction of keeping you in the dark, I must admit that I didn't quite trust..."

"Me?"

"Your acting ability." Avon frowned. "Or mine, once you knew. The temptation to plot an escape would have been well nigh irresistible- and fatal. Once Moro had the faintest suspicion that my conditioning had failed, he would have disposed of both of us. As he did all his failures."

"How do you know that? You hadn't recovered when Eagle told me that."

Avon lowered his voice to a bare whisper. " I remembered. Even though I could not understand it at the time, I remembered it later."

"All of it?" The desert. Moro and Eagle. He read his answer as Avon's eyes darkened. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not. I prefer knowing what happened. Wouldn't you?"

Blake considered. Yes, he would gladly trade the gaps in his memory for any reality, no matter how horrible. "I'm still sorry."

Avon grinned. "Yes, I rather thought you would be. Sorry enough to give me the ship?"

Blake smiled back. "Not quite, no." 

"I didn't think so," Avon murmured, amused.

Blake heard footsteps behind him and turned his head. Even that slight shift made Avon gasp. Jenna and Cally were there too, moving from the teleport controls to look at them. Cally looked curious while Jenna was grinning from ear to ear. Blake just knew Avon was going to kill him for this.

"Er, Blake," Jenna said, after checking out all the angles, "I'd better get back to the flight deck. Um. Do you need a hand?"

Avon answered for Blake, "Yes, but not yours. Get this ship out of here!"

Jenna nodded, but she paused to say, "Nice buns, Blake," before she nodded to Gan to accompany her. The big man went willingly after one long, disbelieving stare at Blake and Avon.

Blake groaned. "Let me go, Avon," he said and tried to pull back, but Avon refused to release him.

Avon gasped, and said, "I told you not to do that!" His head fell back to the deck, and he closed his eyes. "Congratulations, Blake. You have succeeded in embarrassing me beyond your wildest dreams."

"I'm not too comfortable myself. Let me go!"

"If I could, I would, you microcephalic idiot!" Avon snapped, practically spitting in Blake's face.

Blake held up a fist. "I don't think you're in a position to start a fight with me, Avon." Avon looked so disgruntled that Blake put his hand back down to support himself, sighed, and asked, "Why can't you let me get out of you?"

Avon didn't answer. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Obviously he didn't have the words to describe the problem.

"Dog-knotted. You're dog-knotted," Vila supplied helpfully. He had been standing back, gaping, and now came close, smiling cheerfully when it became apparent that neither Blake nor Avon could do anything to him, no matter what he said. "I've heard of it, in prison, but never actually saw anybody who managed it. I thought it was just an urban legend." He walked all around them, looking them over while Avon ground his teeth and Blake glared blackly at him. "Here, Cally, you're the one with medical training, what do you think? Is it Avon's fault because he's tight-arsed, or Blake's because he's a big prick?"

Cally took the question seriously. "I could not say without a complete examination. I do not have any experience of coital disfunction during male homosexual acts. I have heard of penis captivus occurring in heterosexual relations. There was one historical case on record in which a female prostitute - that is to say a person who is paid for sexual services..."

Avon interrupted. "We all know what a prostitute is, Cally."

Cally raised her eyebrows. "Oh, how sad. Among my people..."

"Yes," Avon said, "Among your people there is a saying."

"Do not interrupt, Avon. It is rude," Cally said primly. "As I was saying, among my people, anyone who desires sexual fulfillment merely posts their name on the computer network, listing their preferences and particular specialties."

"What was your specialty?" Vila asked.

"Feathers," she said, enigmatically. "But to return to my story. This prostitute's customer was an elderly politician who suffered cardiac arrest whilst in coitus. Fear of discovery led her to an attack of functional vaginismus, effectively locking the penis of the corpse within her."

"Ugh," Vila commented on behalf of all the men present. "What did they do to get him out?"

"I believe surgery was performed."

Blake went white and Avon looked none too happy either. "I do hope you have a better answer than that for us, Cally," Blake said.

"I will have to research the condition. Perhaps a muscle relaxant." She nodded. "I will consult Orac. I think it would be best if we did not try to move you. Avon does have a tendency toward back troubles."

Vila snickered and said, "And I can see why."

Cally looked annoyed. "Vila, this is not funny. Stay here to watch that they do not aggravate the situation, while I find out what is to be done." She marched out of the teleport chamber quite seriously, but from Avon's angle he could see she was holding her ribs against an attack of laughter.

"Blake," Avon said softly.

"Yes?"

"You do know I will have my revenge for this, don't you?"

"That had crossed my mind," Blake replied. A spasm of pain distorted Avon's face and Blake asked, "What's wrong?"

"You mean beside the fact that you and I will be subjected to endless puerile jokes, gentle understanding, condescending tolerance, and knowing glances?"

Blake nodded. "Yes. Besides that."

Avon closed his eyes and sighed. "My back is killing me, my legs have gone numb, and my arse feels as if someone has parked a shuttle inside it. Except for that, I'm wonderful." 

"Sorry I asked," Blake said. "I could try to lower your legs around my waist?" He shifted his weight slightly and Avon's mouth opened in a silent protest. "No, all right. That won't work." Blake put a hand on Avon's hair and stroked it. "I really am sorry about this muck-up. It's all my fault, I know."

Avon's mouth twisted. "Don't try the hair-shirt routine on me, Blake. We were prisoners of a certifiable lunatic. In that situation, no guilt accrues to the survivors, regardless of any actions they may have found necessary."

"Then what do you want revenge for?"

Avon looked up at Blake, and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "There are revenges. And there are revenges."

"Ah. I see." Blake smiled back at Avon, then winced himself.

"What's the matter?" Avon asked, looking concerned.

"Oh, nothing much. My balls are about to explode and I think my prick is developing gangrene. I hope Cally hurries," Blake said vehemently.

"Ermm." Vila's throat-clearing brought their attention back to their fascinated audience of one.

"What is it, Vila?" Avon asked, sounding very tired. 

"Well, you know. In those stories I heard in prison. Um. Well, it's not as if I know for sure that it even happened, but maybe..."

"Enough!" Blake shouted, regretting it when the sudden movement of his chest jerked painfully at both him and Avon. "What are you trying to say?"

"Just that I heard there was a way to get un-knotted," Vila said quickly. "If you want to try my idea?"

"If Vila had an idea, if would die of loneliness," Avon said, but he didn't say it too loudly.

"Tell us, Vila. Avon, shush," Blake said, and Avon shut his mouth and pouted.

"Um, well the buggerer- that's you, Blake, just has to stay still, but the buggeree- that's you, Avon, has to use his arse muscles on his topman to make him come, so's he'll get soft and can, um, slip out, like. Shouldn't be too hard, for Avon." Vila winced. "Well, I mean it shouldn't be long..." Vila cringed again. "After all, you're used to Blake coming out on top of you... I mean..."

Blake suppressed a chuckle, figuring it would hurt. "Avon, do you think you can do it?"

"Anything's better than listening to Vila ramble. Whatever you do, Blake, don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't do anything."

"All right. But, Avon, one thing before you start?"

"What?"

"Give us a kiss?" Blake crooked a grin at Avon. "You never would."

"Not with that creature Moro watching. Fucking is one thing, kissing is quite another. That reminds me, once we get out of this tangle, we'll have to do something about those vids. Preferably something along the lines of blowing up the entire planet."

Vila's mouth was open again. He closed it and said, "Vids? Um, Avon. You know, there are markets for that sort of thing. I could get you a really sweet deal..." Avon looked at him, and Vila said, "Um, no on second thought, maybe that's not such a good idea."

"Shut up, Vila. I don't want to be distracted. This is going to take concentration." Avon bared his teeth. "And you, Blake, will get your kiss later. I meant it when I said I don't want you to do anything!"

Blake sighed in resignation, but he was secretly quite pleased. If not in so many words, Avon had agreed to continue their intimate relationship. It would have been very difficult to go cold-turkey after having gotten so firmly hooked on Avon. Blake smiled, and decided not to repeat that particular pun out loud. "All right," he said in a noble, long-suffering tone.

Avon gave him a suspicious look, but apparently decided not to pursue it. 

Blake moaned as a sudden squeeze rippled along his entire buried length. He looked at Avon in admiration. "That's bloody marvelous," he said. "Do it again!"

"Shut up," Avon said, gritting his teeth. "It's bloody difficult and bloody painful. I want to get this over with quickly."

Blake nodded and closed his eyes, concentrating on remaining still, despite the incredible need to thrust. His cock rejoiced in another contraction around it and Blake moaned again. Avon reached a hand between their joined bodies to caress Blake's clenched balls. "Don't move, Blake," he said, softly. "Trust me for once."

Blake opened his eyes. "I do. Always," he said, meaning more than a simple reply. Avon's eyes were appalled, then suddenly changed to something very like contentment.

"You may regret that."

"Never." Blake shut his eyes again as another ripple sent fire up his spine. His balls squirmed within the sac, moving against Avon's talented fingers and he felt blood forcing its way into his cock despite the tremendous pressure all around it. Avon's hands moved to Blake's arse, massaging the cheeks. That felt good too, but Blake barely noticed it above the syncopated rhythm playing along his instrument. Then fingers plunged within and pressed down on just the right spot. Blake bellowed and arched his back despite knowing he mustn't move, and let fly. His penis was attacked by a python- at least it felt that way, and he found himself moving, thrusting long, full strokes in and out of Avon's slick, silken arse. He should have pulled out, but he couldn't bear to waste a drop of cum on the deck, not when Avon's sweet bum was waiting to be used. He was still moving, in the languorous, lazy motions that usually accompanied the after-shock for him, when Vila cleared his throat and said, "Blake, aren't you done yet?" in an awed tone.

Blake looked down at Avon, at the lean belly slick with Avon's own cum, then up at Avon's solemnly smiling eyes. "Are we done?"

"Almost." Avon reached up, put a hand to the back of Blake's head, and pulled Blake down for a long, sweet, tongue-thrusting, deep kiss. Then he released Blake and said, "Now, get out of me and help me to the medical unit. I want to be able to walk tomorrow."

Blake pulled out, stood and stretched, and said, "Why? Where are you going tomorrow?"

Avon sighed, while still lying flat on the deck. "Apparently, whereever you are. Now, can we go, please?"

Blake leaned down and picked Avon up.

"I can walk." Avon started to squirm in Blake's grasp, then winced. "Probably."

"Don't be difficult, Avon," Blake said, fondly. 

"Would you rather I were impossible?" Avon ruffled Blake's hair, which didn't make a noticeable difference to the curls, and grinned. 

Vila watched the two of them leave and shook his head. Then he brightened. "Orac can get copies of those vids. Bet they'd work wonders on Cally and Jenna." He rubbed his hands together and grinned. "And if nothing else, they'll get me out of the scut-work detail, once I let Blake know I've got 'em. Don't think I'll tell Avon, though. I wouldn't fancy his revenge. I've always been a ladies' man meself." He nodded to himself and set off briskly to find his good friend, Orac.


End file.
